Cure
by Chloe Silvers
Summary: Chloe is trying to find a doctor to help her with her meteor infection and a playboy-like Oliver Queen is trying to find a a physician for his Green Arrow wounds. They begin a sexual relationship, which becomes a problem once Ollie's softer side develops.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Oliver was at the Ace of Clubs, completely wasted and having the time of his life. It had been a long day at work, and he wasn't patrolling the city tonight. It was only his second week in Metropolis, and he couldn't believe that he hadn't visited this place yet.

Really good scotch. He had lost count of how many he had so far. He just looked at the empty glass with longing. Why was it gone so quickly? He cleared his throat loudly at the lady behind the counter, and she rolled her eyes, walking over and giving him a refill.

He grabbed the glass and held it up. "You're a beautiful woman." He told her.

"Yeah, yeah, that's what they all say", she said with a roll of the eyes and a small smile.

"No, I mean it", he said quickly before downing the scotch, wincing slightly as he felt the burning sensation travel down his throat. The burn was worth the taste.

The woman was wandering around him, even though there was someone on the other side of the bar waiting to be served. Oliver smiled. Not like she could resist him. Not a chance in hell.

"How about I take you back to my apartment and I show you just how beautiful you are?" he asked

She leaned over the table. "You're drunk. You don't even know my name."

"Sure I do...Cindy" he said, reading the tag on her shirt before his eyes wandered over to the cleavage. "Right there", he said, putting a finger on the tag. "Cindy."

"That's very nice", she said sarcastically, straightening up. "How about we call it a night and I call a cab."

"Are you going to drive home with me? Make sure I get back safely?"

She rolled her eyes. "Sure, guy. How about you pay your bill first, and I'll see what I can do?"

He nodded as she walked to the other side of the bar, serving someone a shot. Oliver whipped out his wallet, tossing the American Express black card onto the table and scrawling on the bill absent-mindedly before sliding it towards her.

She looked at the credit card. "Oliver Queen?" she asked

"That's my name, don't wear it out", he said proudly. "Now that we're all introduced, how about that cab? Want to join me?"

She smiled. Got her. And all it took was his name.

He woke up naked at 4 in the morning, and rolled over to view the curvy naked woman beside him. Time to get up and get out of here. He quietly got out of bed and reached for his boxers, pulling them on before walking to the bathroom for a quick shower and getting the hell out of there.

He had played this game before. If he stuck around when she woke up, she would expect him to remember her name, favorite color, things that he didn't know. She would expect to feel special, but the truth was that Oliver didn't give a damn. He had better things to do, a company to run, and a city to keep safe later.

He got dressed and put all of her clothes in a small pile on the floor. Oliver grabbed his keys, wallet, and cell phone before heading over to the elevator, pressing the down button. He glanced at the Arrow room while he waited. He would patrol later that night- work off the guilt until he could forget about it completely. Wouldn't take very long.

He unfolded composite bow and shot out a taser arrow before jumping down the roof and examining the unconscious female body on the ground. The thug had knocked her out and was about to rape the body. Disgusting.

He folded the bow back up and reattached it to his belt. He pulled her up and tried to shake the woman awake, but there was nothing.

"What did you do to him?" a gruff voice asked

He turned around to see another thug. Great, this guy had friends. "He knocked out an innocent woman. If you're worried about your friend there, maybe your priorities are mixed up", he said in a distorted voice.

The man shrugged. "What makes you think the bitch didn't deserve it?"

"What makes you think that he needed to go so far?" Oliver asked before reaching for a crossbow and unfolding it, holding the woman with the other arm before shooting a zip-line upwards at the roof that he was on before. He set the body down.

"I guess I can tell the authorities that they have it wrong. You're not a man. You're a little girl. Running away from a fight."

Oliver jumped down and rolled onto the floor. "Oh yeah?" he asked sarcastically "Why don't you get out of here. I don't want to hurt you."

The thug whipped out a switchblade. "Yeah? Why don't you make me?"

"If you insist", Oliver said before grabbing the crossbow again, pressing the button and feeling it spring to life.

The man ran towards him with the knife, Oliver dodged it before it made contact with his cheek. The man attempted another strike, but Oliver grabbed his arm, grabbing the knife and throwing it on the floor before punching the thug.

The thug fell to the floor and Oliver crossed his arms, looking pleased with himself. "Get out of here", he told the man before turning around and aiming the zip-line arrow towards the roof where the woman was. She needed medical attention as soon as possible- she had been out for a long time.

Right before he lifted off of the ground, the thug reached for the knife on the floor and slashed him just below the knee, the knife travelling downwards as Oliver moved upwards. He felt the pain immediately, but tried not to think about it until he got back to the roof and made sure that the woman was safe.

His feet slammed on the roof and tossed the crossbow aside for a second before reaching for his compound bow. He always felt like the compound bow had a bit more finesse. He looked through the scout until he found the thug and shot him in the back with a taser arrow and watched as the stranger fell down next to his friend.

Putting away the compound bow and reaching for the crossbow, he checked the woman's pulse. It was weak, but still there. He calibrated the zip-line, and ignoring the pain, flew into the sky once more, in the direction of Metropolis General Hospital.

He reached the hospital in record time and got the attention of an ambulance driver who agreed to take care of the woman. That was all he needed for now.

Oliver zip-lined through Metropolis' night sky and landed on his balcony at the Clock Tower, willing his body to stop thinking about the pain that was shooting through his leg, almost forcing him to collapse as he rolled into the penthouse. He stood up and limped to his desk, accessing the finger print scanner underneath a drawer.

He walked over to the arrow room as a retina scanner popped up, trying to still himself long enough to get the door opened before ripping the place to shreds trying to find the medical equipment. He located the small box, and sat down on the floor after taking off the green leather pants that he was wearing.

He grabbed the stitching equipment and took a deep breath. This was going to be fine. He had watched ample youtube videos and practiced on lemons, oranges, etc. This was going to be okay. 6 inches, that's all this was. No big deal.

People did this all of the time, nothing bad was going to happen. He touched the sterile needle to his wound, and tried to get himself to just sew himself back together. Just another orange.

He was about to slide the needle through his skin when he pulled away in alarm. He forgot to clean the wound. He set the needle aside, taking a calming breath as he disinfected and numbed the wound before grabbing the needle again.

His hands were shaking a little bit as he started stitching himself back together, wincing as he felt the needle going in and out and watching as his skin pulled together again. If that thug shot him or stabbed him in the chest, he would have no idea what to do.

Maybe living here in Metropolis temporarily, trying to find out everything that he could about Lex Luthor's projects in the man's city was a mistake. This was a new environment- he didn't know Metropolis as well as he knew Star City.

The truth of the matter was that he had gotten lost. He never would have stumbled into that alley if he hadn't been- he somehow ended up on the other side of the city. He knew a couple of other people that were doing the same night crime fighting as he was, but they seemed more prepared for this. They had abilities- it was almost as if they were born with this purpose. He wasn't born for this.

He took another deep breath as he finished the suture. He checked his watch and let out a groan- 2 AM. Only 3 hours of sleep for him. He was going to feel like shit in the morning. He got up after putting away the medical supplies and closed up the Arrow room before walking to the bathroom and turning on the light.

He took off everything and examined the scars that he had accumulated over the past six months. They doubled since he came to Metropolis. Oliver wanted to brush it off and convince himself that he just needed to get used to the new layout- maybe go over the blueprints of the city again, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he needed help with this. One lethal wound, that's all it took. He opened the medicine cabinet and chewed a couple of painkillers before gulping down a handful of water.

Oliver Queen, that's who he was. If he got shot, there wasn't a hospital in the world that wouldn't recognize him, and there wasn't a single newspaper that would keep the story hidden no matter how hard he tried.

He looked at his watch again- 2:15. He would worry about all of that in the morning. Pay someone off or something. He would find a way. He had to.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

He hadn't realized just how busy doctors were. Oliver had done his due diligence on research and was able to narrow down the list of possible doctors down to one Emil Hamilton. He had a good reputation, excellent credentials, had a very interesting list of medical research projects that he was in the middle of, and a prestigious medical background. Most importantly, on paper, the man seemed like he would be able to keep a secret.

Dr. Hamilton had his own practice and a hand-picked surgical team consisting of the best and brightest. Metropolis General Hospital was on Oliver's patrol route, and the doctor looked very promising. But he wasn't in the mood to talk.

Oliver donated a very generous sum of money for his research projects and hadn't gotten any more than a regulation thank you letter from the hospital. He tried to set up an appointment with the man, but he was booked for the next three months, and that wasn't good enough- Oliver needed to be able to depend on the man as early as today if needed.

Oliver had intended on randomly dropping by the hospital to speak with the man for the past couple of days, but his own work had kept him busy. On the third day, he became so tired of walking around, terrified that his stitches would break and he would be bleeding profusely through his pant leg at work that he took a long lunch, ignored the never ending piles of paper on his desk, and started for Metropolis General Hospital.

He sat in the waiting room, watching the busy doctors run in and out, trying to find Dr. Hamilton- he hoped that he had seen enough pictures of the man to be able to recognize him if he saw him. He waited for twenty minutes until a man walked in with a couple of files in his hand, exchanging them for more with the receptionist at the front and walking back out.

Oliver sprang up from his seat and moved to follow him when the woman stopped him. "You can't go in there without an appointment."

He turned around and looked over at the desk. There was a very large woman at the front, and a cute, innocent redhead behind her. He walked over to the desk, and smiled at the large woman. "I'm so sorry, I didn't know. I need to talk to Dr. Hamilton, and I thought that was him."

"It was. You can't go back there. Do you have an appointment?"

"I just need to talk to him for five minutes. I'm Oliver Queen, I made a donation for a couple of his projects, and I wanted to talk to him."

"The hospital thanks you. Unless you have an appointment, you can't see him." She reached for a piece of paper and handed it to him. He saw the redhead light up at the knowledge of his name. "Lunch menu's right here. Can't guarantee that a bribe's going to work, though. No sushi, no salad." She said before turning back to her work.

He grabbed the paper. Fantastic. He looked over at the redhead who gave him an apologetic smile. He smiled at her. That was his way in.

The next day, he stopped by with lunch just for the woman in the front, and waited for her to finish eating the bribe only to get a "Better luck next time, he's not in today."

He looked over to see the redhead trying not to watch the two of them. Her jealousy was going to get him what he needed. For the next week, he continued to bring the woman in the front lunch until one day, he reached in his briefcase and pulled out a bouquet of flowers. He looked over to see the redhead more than slightly put off until he reached for another bouquet of flowers, and said "Looks like there's one in here for you too! Look at that!"

She rushed over to him to grab the flowers, giggling. Typical. They were always giggling. Always. "I think he's in his office right now. Let me page him", the redhead said, a wide smile plastered on her face.

He leaned over the counter, and smiled at her. "Thank you so much, you don't have to do that."

She giggled again before picking up the phone and talking to the doctor. When she hung up, she got up from the chair. "Right this way."

He followed the girl over to an office and knocked on the door. "Dr. Hamilton, you have a visitor."

"Come in", a voice answered.

"Thank you", he whispered to the receptionist as she walked away.

He opened the door and saw files everywhere, the doctor appeared to be literally buried underneath all of the paperwork. He moved a couple of files from the seat of the chair across from him and placed them on the floor. "Dr. Hamilton, my name is Oliver Queen."

"Let me guess, you made a donation for my research and now you think that you can manipulate me into doing whatever the hell you want", he said, signing a file before closing it and putting it to the side. "It's not going to happen."

"I think you have the wrong idea."

Hamilton looked up for a second and crossed his arms. "Of course I do. I have the wrong idea, you're the exception to the rules, I've heard it all before", he said before reaching for another file. "The truth of the matter is that you billionaires are all the same. You think that you can use everybody else in society, pay them off to achieve your means. If you think I have time to listen to every billionaire that walks through these doors, then you should take a look around. I have work to do."

He examined the man. The dark circles, frustration in his voice, he recognized the signs from his own love/hate relationship with his job over the years. Dr. Hamilton had probably been cooped up in this office all day, and had probably been in the building for longer than that. And a glance at the clock told Oliver that he needed to get back to Queen Industries soon.

"How long have you been in here?"

Emil let out a laugh. "What day is it?"

"Thursday. Look, you obviously need to get out of here, and I need to get back to Queen Industries. I'd like to actually be your friend, Doctor Hamilton. At the very least to show you that there are actually a couple of exceptions out there. Let's grab some coffee."

Hamilton let out a sigh. "I guess I have been cooped up here for a while." He let his eyes stray to a nearby stack of files.

"They'll be there when you come back. I just need to be in the building in case someone needs to get a hold of my person. We'll just go to the lobby. If you get a page, it's only a couple of minutes walk away." Oliver got up, and reached for his briefcase. "Shall we, Doctor?"

Emil grabbed his wallet and cell phone, and the two of them headed out the door. On their way out, Oliver walked around the front desk and leaned over to speak to the redhead. "Dr. Hamilton will be out for the next hour. I think he would appreciate it if you would hold his phone calls. Or better yet, just forward them over to his office's voicemail. But don't hesitate to page him if it's an emergency."

He reached in his pocket and slid over his business card. "And you can always call me too. Cell number's on the back." He winked and the two men left.

"So, looks like the newspapers have the playboy part right."

Oliver shrugged. "I'm a guy. Have yet to find a woman to pin me down, that's all. What about you? I'm sure some of the nurses or receptionists here would die to be with the big badass head doctor."

Emil chuckled. "I haven't had a personal life since my wife died a couple of years ago."

Oliver nodded in understanding. "Extremes, I get it."

"What do you mean?"

"My parents died when I was a kid. It was a long time ago, but I never really got over it", Oliver explained, leaving out the details of both the accident and the pain.

"So your personal life is forced, and my lack of one is too."

"I wouldn't say forced", he said as he checked out a passing brunette before ordering two coffees from a coffee cart outside of Queen Industries and passing Dr. Hamilton one. "Just very different."

"Hey, don't judge me for my lack of a personal life, and I won't judge you for your active one." Emil said as the doorman pulled open a door and he stepped inside.

"Thanks, Frank", Oliver said, smiling, slipping the man a crisp hundred dollar bill. The two of them sat down on a bench in the lobby.

"Good to the help", Emil said, surprised.

"You really don't have good experiences with billionaires, do you? Who was it?"

"Lionel Luthor."

Oliver grimaced. He knew about the 33.1 facilities. Those projects didn't agree with him. But he had no idea if Emil knew about them or not. "What happened, if you don't mind me asking?"

"An associate of mine, a brilliant man, gave up his career because of him. Years ago, Lionel brought his son into the hospital because something was wrong. Next thing he knew, his team is being forced to give him electric shock therapy for no reason. When Lex Luthor was released from the hospital, he couldn't remember anything from the previous day."

"You think Lionel did it on purpose. That he wanted Lex to forget something."

Emil nodded his head. "It's more than that. My associate- he knew that there was something off about the procedure. He felt responsible, like he knew he had tortured Lex Luthor. A day after Lex is released, his projects were given a handsome check, signed by Lionel himself. My associate told me how dirty it felt, Mr. Queen. I'm not interested in feeling it too."

"I'm not interested in delivering the dirt", Oliver said, taking a sip of his coffee. "I sent a check to put my name out there."

"You fund a lot of charities. Your name is out there."

"Yeah, but it's not enough. I'm sure I don't have to tell you how dangerous this city can be. Funding a charity or two isn't going to fix that."

"You're only human. There's only so much you can do. The charities are more than what most people bother with."

"What if I told you that there was a bit more that I could do to make a difference, but that for whatever reason, it put me in some dangerous situations?"

Emil raised an eyebrow. "Define dangerous situations. You're not connected to the mob, are you?"

"No, none of that. I just met you, and it's a bit difficult to explain. All I can tell you right now is that I had to stitch my own leg back together last week, and I really don't want to do that again. I need a private physician, someone who won't blab to the papers."

"You stitched your own leg back together? Do you have any medical training?"

Oliver shook his head. "If you don't include Youtube, then no."

Emil scoffed. "Of course I don't include Youtube. Can I see the sutures? How long is it? You may have done it incorrectly."

"I didn't do it wrong", Oliver insisted. "I've practiced on lemons before."

"Yes, and I've practiced on human flesh. Let me see it."

He looked around at the busy Queen Industries employees walking around the lobby. "I don't think that's a good idea here."

"Right. Come into the office tomorrow, I'll have a look at that leg, and you can see what I do. See if I'm good enough for what you're looking for."

Thank goodness. He really didn't want to show his stitches in front of employees. Speaking of employees, there was a particularly good looking one heading for the elevator. "Hi, Sara", he called out.

The woman looked confused as she turned around, looking his way before continuing her trek towards the elevators.

"You know, judging by her reaction, I don't think her name is Sara", Emil pointed out.

Exactly. "Oh, I know. But if every day, I say, 'Hi, Sara', she'll eventually come up to me and say, 'My name's not Sara, it's Jennifer, or whatever. And I'll do a big apology, and I'll say 'I thought you were the Sara that was mad at me for not calling.' And from then on, Jennifer, or whatever her name is? Will think that I dated a girl who looked just like her. Who I rejected. I make a lot of money, and she'll start to think that she has a chance at that money. She'll develop this unconscious need to win my approval, and from then on, it's cake."

Emil looked at the elevator doors that closed shortly after the woman took a second glance at Oliver. "Damn. You're good."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Oliver showed up at the practice after an exhausting day of meetings, and faked as much enthusiasm as possible when he was interacting with the receptionists, giving them each a bouquet of roses. He walked through the doors without an interruption and headed straight for Emil's office, finding it empty.

He started walking around absentmindedly for a while until he heard Dr. Hamilton's voice in one of the exam rooms. Oliver hovered around the door for a couple of minutes before it opened. He smiled at the elderly man emerging from the room and popped his head into the room.

"What's up, Doc?"

Emil looked up from the file that he was scribbling on and let out a chuckle. "I take it you've always wanted to do that?"

"Yeah", Oliver said, stepping in the room. He never had a doctor friend before. Tricky business contacts, yes. But they had no trouble stabbing him in the back if necessary to get ahead. "Why, do you get it a lot?"

"No, I mostly get calls from angry patients telling me that I'm wrong and that Google has a better diagnosis."

Running a technology empire, he should be irritated that Emil didn't like the internet, but he wasn't. "Ah. Rough day?"

"Something like that."

"Should I come back?" Oliver asked

"No, it's fine", Emil said, closing the file and putting the pen he was holding in the front pocket of his white coat. "Let's take a look at the stitches. Courtesy of YouTube, right?"

Oliver was hoping to do that towards the very end. If he showed them now, Emil would immediately ask why he needed to stitch himself back up. And besides, Oliver was a little bit proud of himself for being able to do it.

"How about we do that after I see what you do around here?"

A nurse knocked on the door. "Dr. Hamilton, when you're ready, there's a patient in Room 200 ready for you."

"Thank you", Emil said automatically.

"A patient!" Oliver exclaimed, jumping at the distraction. "Goodie! Shall we, doctor?"

"You're really enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Every second", he said, leaving the room and walking down the hall. "Look at that, Room 200." Oliver picked up the file outside of the door. "C. Sullivan. Shall we go?"

"That's one of our new patients."

"Then let's make C. Sullivan welcome." Oliver insisted

"I don't know whether she's interested in one of our research projects or not. We usually work with confidentiality here, especially when it comes to research."

"And I respect that. What do you think I'm going to do, tell Sullivan that he smells funny or something?"

Emil grabbed his arm and led him away from the door. "Look, what we research? It's not the normal old stuff. There are some people who are sick because of different reasons. Anomalies. They're judged enough for who they are and what they have- I don't want random observers to add to that."

"Then I'm an intern. We just fake it."

"I'm not lying to the patient."

"I respect the confidentiality", Oliver whispered. "You have no idea just how much I respect their secrets, you're just going to have to trust me on this one for now. But before I trust you with mine, I need to see how you interact with your patients. That's all this is, I swear."

Emil was silent for a moment. "Fine, but take off the coat and tie."

Oliver pulled them both off and dumped them at a random chair. "Ready?"

"Remember, you're observing. No talking."

"Got it."

Emil opened the door and stepped in the room with Oliver right behind him.

It was all going so well until he saw the patient. Because, see, C. Sullivan was a woman. And she was hot.

Short blonde hair and red coat. Skirt and heels. She had a brave face even though she was looking at Emil nervously.

"I'm Doctor Hamilton", Emil said, not skipping a beat. And barely looking up from the chart he was reading.

Oliver was silent for a moment, wondering how to introduce himself. Because Oliver Queen was definitely not a doctor.

"I'm an intern", he finally piped up from the door.

The woman turned to face him. "Great", she said with a tone of sarcasm.

"What brings you here, Miss Sullivan?" Emil asked

"I need a prescription to stop my hands from shaking."

Straight and to the point.

"No history of Parkinson's or Huntington's, and you haven't been referred from a specialist", Emil read from the file. "When did it start?"

"Look, your site said that you would be understanding", she started. "That you've seen a lot of things that are weird and unexplained and that you wouldn't think that I was crazy if I told you the truth."

Curious. Very curious. Oliver wondered if she had accidently ended up in a psych ward because of whatever the truth was.

"Which site are you referring to, Miss Sullivan?" Emil asked gently

"Your research on...people with...meteor abilities."

He wondered if she ever ended up in a 33.1 facility. Oliver swore on his love for hot women everywhere that Lex Luthor would pay if C. Sullivan was a victim.

"You can trust me, I promise. When did the shaking start?"

"I woke up in the morgue once last week", she said quickly.

A morgue? She was dead? He knew that Lex Luthor experimented on people with abilities, but Oliver never quite understood how they got abilities in the first place.

"What can you do?" Emil asked

The woman shot Oliver a look and looked back at Emil.

"It's okay", Emil answered.

"Let's just say that someone was in trouble and that they were in pain. And that I can make the pain go away."

"But there are consequences", Emil said.

She nodded. "I take the pain and it becomes inflicted on myself. And then I can heal it. Sometimes I die." She was silent for a couple of moments. "The death just doesn't...stick. I don't think it will unless it's actually mine."

Oliver just stared at her silently. Whoever this woman was, she was incredibly brave. He could tell that last week wasn't the first time she healed someone.

"Look, I don't need to show you or anything, do I? I'm not a circus act or anything."

Biting tone. Interesting.

"No, Miss Sullivan", Emil said. "Other than the trembling hands, has anything else come up?"

She looked over at Oliver for a second before turning her head back around. She was silent for a moment before she started speaking. "There's this blotch on my left breast. I don't think it's a big deal, but I guess as long as I'm here, you might as well have a look."

"Sure", Emil said as she took off the coat and hesitated for a split second before taking off her white blouse.

When she pulled down one bra cup, Oliver couldn't help but stare.

"That's just a spider bite", Emil said.

"Is it? Okay." She said before putting her clothes back on.

And now, Oliver couldn't help but picture her naked in his bed.

"How long have your hands been shaking?" Emil asked as she slowly buttoned her coat

It had to be the medical training. Because Oliver just saw that breast. There was nothing wrong with it at all. He was glad that he wasn't supposed to say anything.

"Three days."

"Miss Sullivan, have you seen a neurologist?"

"I don't like doctors much. No offense."

"None taken. Do you have insurance? Nothing's listed in the file."

"Do I have insurance", she repeated before letting out a laugh. She reached into her pocket, withdrawing a wad of bills and tossing it at Emil.

"Okay then", Emil said, pocketing the money and filling out a prescription. "If you have any problems, please don't hesitate to call me at any time."

"Thank you", she said genuinely, getting up from the table she was sitting on. She tilted her head towards Oliver. "Does he have any questions?"

Oliver cleared his throat. "No", he answered. "You're good to go."

She walked over to the door. "Super", she said, looking at him before opening it and leaving.

"What if she was faking it for the prescription?" Oliver asked once she left

"She has abilities. I've seen them before- scared of who they really are. After a while, you can separate the drug addicts from the genuinely fearful. At least, I hope so."

Oliver shut the door. "So, do you think that there's anything that could truly shock you anymore?"

"I'm not sure."

He sat down on the table, trying not to notice that the spot was still warm from the blonde who was just here.

Maybe he was thinking about her as a distraction from the fact that he was about to tell Emil something that he had never told anybody.

How was he going to do this? Ease Emil into things or just let it out?

It would save a lot of hassle if Oliver just let it out. Therapeutic, maybe.

"I'm the Green Arrow."

"What?"

"Green leather, zip-lining from rooftop to rooftop, compound, composite, and crossbows. I dropped an injured woman by Met Gen a couple of weeks ago. Same day I stitched my leg back together."

Emil looked dumbfounded. "You're not kidding."

Oliver rolled up his pant-leg to reveal the sutures. "Does this look like an accident?"

Emil sat down on a chair and wheeled it over to him, peering at his leg. "Must have been either a long blade or he got you while you were moving."

"I was zip-lining up and the maniac got me on the way."

"Looks like I can give the internet a little bit of credit after all. These aren't half bad."

"Hey, thanks doc", Oliver said, rolling the pant-leg back down.

"I'm willing to take on any new patients that you bring in to preserve your anonymity. Green leather doesn't really blend in with hospital walls."

"I appreciate that. Any chance you can take care of emergency surgeries in case I get shot one day?"

"I have a team of surgeons who are equipped to deal with cases like this. Your name won't be on any front pages." Emil took out his card and scribbled something on the back. "Emergency page. 24/7. You call if something comes up, I'll be there."

Emil was handling this all very well. Oliver didn't know if he believed the guy when he said that there were other cases even remotely similar to his, but Emil was handling it well nonetheless. "Can I count on you to keep this a secret?"

"Absolutely. I welcome less paperwork. Whenever you're in here, we'll just say that you're visiting a friend."

"Awesome. Same time next week, then?"

Emil opened the door. "Sure. Don't forget your coat and tie on the way out."

Oliver grabbed the clothing and walked out of the office with a feeling of accomplishment. He was about to unlock his car when all of a sudden something hit him in the back of the head.

He turned around and saw C. Sullivan with an angry look in her eyes and a bulging handbag in her hands. "You're not a fucking intern, Oliver Queen."

"What?"

"Shocked that I know who you are? You asshole", she spat out before hitting him with the bag again.

He could have caught the bag, could have disarmed her in a second, but she had a fierce look in her eyes that made him forget about it all.

"Would you stop that?" he asked "The buckle kind of hurts."

"Oh, suck it up you big baby", she said, hitting him extra hard with the buckle. "You let me take my top off. You're not a doctor, you perv!"

She kept hitting him until he had enough of it. "Stop", he said, taking the bag from her hand and holding it above his head. She was petite, and reached to retrieve her purse, but wasn't tall enough to get it.

"You'll get it back when you calm down."

She took a deep breath and folded her arms. God, she was sexy, especially when she was mad.

What, was he supposed to apologize for being a guy? If anything, she should take it as a compliment. Looking at her breasts, that was human.

Obviously, there was something wrong with Emil for not looking. Doc needs a little more schooling on the girls.

"I'm sorry I stared at your breasts." Oliver said finally. Hey, that wasn't so bad. "There." He said, slightly proud of himself.

She punched him in the face.

He turned his head back to see her looking at him with a mixture of defiance, smugness, and irritation. "This isn't just because of that, you jerk. It was hard for me to talk about what's been going on. I wouldn't have done if I didn't need to, and I certainly could have done without a billionaire in front of me."

She tried to punch him again, but he caught her fist. She gave him a small smile before kneeing him in the groin.

Oliver bent over in pain, and the woman picked up her handbag. She took out a small device and kneeled down, pressing a button and turning it on. She held it out for him to see.

Stun gun. Sullivan was more capable of damage than he thought.

She kneeled down and started speaking in a low voice, but the words came through crystal clear. "If you try to experiment on me to see what I can do, I will kill you, do you hear me?"

"Experiment?" He asked, trying to form sentences through the pain. "I don't want to-"

She cut him off. "You know, what? Why don't you just apologize so I can go home? For once, I'd like to see one of you billionaires, with your fifty million dollar suits and better than everybody else attitudes even if you assure us all that you're just another Average Joe, say that you're actually sorry for something that you've done."

The pain subsided, and Oliver got up. She tried to punch him again to keep him down, but he grabbed her wrist and pulled her flush to his chest. "Listen, Sullivan." He started in a low voice. "I don't know what other billionaires you're used to associating with, but I am actually different from them all. But on behalf of the billionaires who have treated you like shit in the past, I'd like to apologize. And maybe take you out to dinner."

He loosened the grip on her hand and she pulled away from him without another word.

"Was that a yes or a no?" he asked as she walked away.

"No, as in no, I won't go out with you", she said before turning around and snapping a picture on her cell phone. "But that one? That's a yes. As in, yes, that's one for the Daily Planet."

She was gone before he could say anything else. All Oliver knew was that she had spunk, and he had to know who she was.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

He was in his gear, looking down at the Daily Planet building. It had been two days since he met C. Sullivan, but he couldn't stop thinking about her. Nobody had ever spoken to him like that before, especially after knowing who he was.

Women had a tendency to respond to him in a few ways- some got in his bed, hoping that they could fake a pregnancy with his illegitimate child down the road and get his money. Others tried their hardest to get dirt on him so that they could paste it all over the tabloids, and the rest of them avoided him in what felt like almost fear of any damage he could cause in the world with his power.

Two days of Oliver reading the gossip columns of every newspaper in Metropolis, and there wasn't a single C. Sullivan reporting on meeting him. He had a couple of theories so far. There was the possibility that she was just taunting him, that she didn't work for the Daily Planet at all.

He thought to himself for a split second that maybe she just wasn't a very good writer, but her aggression and determination showed that she was the kind of woman who got anything that she wanted. Not because all she had to do was bat her eyelashes and daddy would get it for her, but because she worked for it.

The Daily Planet wasn't normally on his patrol route, but he needed to know her. So he would suit up, fight crime when it was needed instead of looking around for it, and get right back over here, where he could catch people leaving the Daily Planet building.

He must have kept missing her, because he never found her, and he was giving up on using this method to do it. Oliver didn't just put on the green leather and zip-line around Metropolis for his health, he did it to save people. And Sullivan was preventing him from being able to do it with his full potential.

Oliver hired Emil in case there was an emergency because he needed to stitch his own leg together. It was healing nicely, and the doctor fixed him up properly, but that wasn't going to stop him either.

He remembered that this woman was a patient in Emil's office, and that because of that, she must have some sort of file. Granted, she was a special patient, but there must be a phone number at the very least. Or some sort of address. Sullivan was a common last name and that wasn't much to go on.

He turned away from the Daily Planet at the end of the night and zip-lined back to the penthouse.

Oliver sat in the penthouse the next day, trying to resist the urge to ask Emil for the contact information of C. Sullivan, but knew that asking would probably land him a lecture about patient confidentiality.

He stared at his phone for a couple of minutes until the screen finally went black before deciding on the next best idea that he had, he picked up the phone and called a receptionist so that she could give him the number.

The redhead had to be the one. He gave her a call, and his first question for her was what she was wearing.

"Red blouse and a brown skirt", she whispered before giggling.

Oliver rolled his eyes at his desk. Why did she have to constantly giggle? What the hell was the matter with her?

"What about...under the skirt?" he asked, squeezing the bridge of his nose with two fingers tightly. She was very frustrating to interact with, but the moment she picked up on it, he would lose his best chance of getting Sullivan's number.

"The same beige tights I wear every day", she whispered quickly before taking a deep breath. "God, you're so bad."

"Well, it's not fun if I'm a good boy, now is it?"

She started giggling again. Good, she was distracted.

"Listen", he said, staying on task. "There was a patient that came in the other day and I was wondering if you could pull up the contact information." Good, he managed to avoid all versions of she and her. "C. Sullivan, I think."

He could hear some slow typing before she answered. "You want Chloe Sullivan's number?"

Chloe. Nice name.

"Hey, it's not like that." But it was. Still is. "She just got upset with me the other day and I want to apologize."

"You're really sweet, but you know that I can't give you that."

"Just a number", he insisted. "So I can call and apologize. That's it. Besides, why would I want anything else when I get to see a woman like you whenever I want?"

There was a voice in the distance, calling the redhead somewhere. "555-0164", she whispered quickly. "I've got to go. Dinner later?"

He wrote the number down. "Absolutely. Meet me there at seven?"

He heard her squeal with excitement and he hung up the phone, letting out a sigh.

He knew where he wasn't going to be around seven o'clock, and that was anywhere near squealing redheads. But if he was lucky, he could be around a sexy, witty blonde.

A sexy, witty blond that wasn't him, of course.

He dialed the number and waited for a distracted voice to answer. "Sullivan here."

"So I'm looking at the Daily Planet and I don't see an article about me. Thanks for that."

She let out a scoff. "That wasn't for you, rich boy. I've been busy. You know, real news. I'm not a gossip columnist."

"I understand busy, lady", he said, smiling at the irritation.

Oliver thought that the yoga was supposed to help with any repressed anger and help him to be a more peaceful person as well as the strengthening. Turns out it didn't work, and was just helping him to be a masochist.

It was the only explanation as to why he couldn't stand women giggling at his every word and why he had a desperate need to find a woman who pelted him with her purse and kneed him in the groin.

"I understand it enough to know that sometimes, a break is welcome. So how about dinner?"

"I can't. I'm working", she said as she typed quickly.

"If you need someone to talk to"

"-I'll what?" she interrupted "Pick up the phone, schedule dinner and have my personal life and secrets splattered across the tabloids?"

"I can avoid the paparazzi if I want to", he said, almost insulted. "Here's an idea. How about you meet me for something that resembles some sort of meal to shut me up? Because otherwise, I'll just keep calling and calling and calling and calling"

"-Already, that is so enough."

He smirked. "And calling and calling and calling."

"Fine", she said quickly.

"Really."

"Coffee. Won't really be a date for me since I pretty much live off of it. Could probably use a refill soon anyway."

"Want to give me the when and where or should I?"

She was silent for a moment. "Metro Cafe, twenty minutes."

Before he could agree or disagree, she hung up on him. Oliver let out a chuckle as he ran a search on his laptop for directions.

He stared at the blip on the Metro Cafe. "Chloe Sullivan", he said, trying the name on for size. Not bad.

He was five minutes early, but that wasn't because he was nervous or anything. More like he was still new in the city, and didn't want to be late in case Chloe Sullivan decided to castrate him. 

It was all self-preservation, really. He liked having certain body parts in one piece.

She walked in, cell phone in hand, scrolling through messages as she ordered a drink and spotted him.

She checked the time. "Prompt", she said, grabbing the cup of coffee and sitting down across from him. "Good. So, Ollie."

Nobody had called him Ollie since his parents died. "Oliver", he corrected.

"Ollie", she repeated. "So, what is it that you're trying to do, exactly? What's the end game?"

Were her eyes that green when he saw her last? Last time he saw her, she was scared because her hands were shaking. "How are you?" He asked

"I don't want to talk about that."

"You haven't told anybody else, have you?"

He knew the feeling. Sometimes, he flipped through the Daily Planet, hoping that he wouldn't find an article titled _Metropolis Doctor tells all_, or something along those lines. Even though Emil was his friend.

"Not that it's any of your business, but no."

"You have beautiful eyes", he couldn't help saying.

"You're good", she said. "My hands are fine. One time thing, I guess."

"Bad enough for you to find Dr. Hamilton, but that's not decaf, is it?" He asked before leaning forward. "And yes, I am good", he added with a smirk.

She took a sip. "I work for the Daily Planet. Late nights aren't exactly rare for me."

He nodded. "Like I said earlier, I understand busy."

"Really, that's the best you can do?" She asked.

"Well, the usual stuff probably won't work on you, will it?" He asked, letting out a chuckle. "But to make sure that you don't feel left out."

He withdrew a rose from his jacket pocket and handed it to her. She took it and smelled it before studying him closely.

She stared at him for a good couple of silent minutes, making him feel like he was being observed under a microscope before she spoke. "Let's go."

"What?"

No way was it going to be that easy.

"Oh no, are we still doing the cutesy small-talk?" She asked sarcastically. "Want me to speed it up a bit? Now, I forget, Ollie."

"-Oliver", he corrected.

"Which part were we up to, Ollie? The innocent and nervous glancing part or the 'no I can't', 'yes you can' part?"

"I don't think that there's a particular routine."

"Oh, there is", she said. "And if we follow it exactly, it'll be, what? Months before you actually do me?"

God, he hoped not.

"What if I turned around and said that I was religious? Waiting for marriage? Make you want to just avoid me at all costs, wouldn't it?" she continued. "See, this isn't about getting to know one another or emotional intimacy. And it's not even about sex."

Wait a minute. Of course it was about sex. "It's not?"

She shook her head, smiling. "No, this is about having maybe an hour or two's release from the pain that is being you."

What on Earth was she talking about? It was great to be Oliver Queen. Thousands of women wanted him, and thousands of men wanted to be him.

"I wouldn't exactly say..."

"-No", she cut him off. "It is. Let's not lie to each other okay? It's boring. You want to know why it's okay with me? Because I want the same exact thing. So let's go."

They hailed a cab, and Oliver wanted to give the driver the address of the penthouse, but Chloe got to the guy first, handed him some sort of business card, and they were off.

He slid his credit card, and off they went, driving in silence.

Oliver was plenty confident, but he had never done it in a taxi before. He wasn't going to be that rude to the driver- at least in limos, there was some sort of barrier. 

So even though he really wanted to started the whole thing right then and there, the most he could do was reach over to her leg and start moving his fingers in slow, circular motions, slowly travelling upwards. Just to keep his mind busy.

She shot him a look before her mouth turned up in a smirk. Her hand went right for the crotch of his pants, her fingers starting to rub up and down, his breath hitching as he felt himself get harder and harder.

She would probably see the stitches on his leg once they finally got wherever the hell they were heading, but he wasn't too concerned with that.

She continued to stroke him until the erection in his pants became almost unbearable. Until he wanted to just rip all of her clothes off and fuck her right in the cab, even if there was a cab driver in front of them.

And then she stopped. She took his hand away from her leg, placed it on his own, and sat there with her ankles crossed and her hands resting her lap.

They pulled over at some sort of Inn. Maybe the name was MacDougal? Something like that. He barely read the sign before they walked in. Chloe didn't even wait for the person at the front desk to show up. She walked over to the other side of the desk, grabbed a set of keys, signed something unreadable on the guest book, and headed upstairs.

Oliver followed her as she took her coat off, wanting to ask if she came here a lot, but before he could, the door was unlocked, and she shoved him inside just before slamming it shut. She dropped her coat and attacked him with her lips, unzipping his leather jacket before he could react.

He had been seducing women for years, and in all of that time, he had never been the submissive one. Not once. And if there was something that he wanted to do to her now, it was to show that he was the one in control here. He had no idea if he would ever see her again after today, but if he did, he didn't want to start a routine of getting in an argument, getting his family jewels kicked, and then having her walk away without another word.

He appreciated his body. He liked being able to support his body with one arm as he zip-lined across cities, and he liked being able to shoot an arrow and hit a target thousands of feet away.

But he appreciated his dick most of all. And he really wanted to be in control of Miss Sullivan right now. So even though Oliver really wanted to get her bra off and see those beautiful breasts again, to observe them with his mouth and hands rather than his eyes, he unbuttoned her jeans. He shoved her against the wall and dove his hand right inside, slipping past her panties, and tracing a finger along her wet folds as she let out a shiver.

She let out a moan as he took his index finger and drove it deep inside of her. He stuck his tongue inside of her mouth, muffling the sounds coming from his own mouth as he felt the digit instantly coating with her juices.

A leg wrapped around his waist and her body lifted up the wall as he inserted a second finger. He waited a couple of seconds so that her body could adjust before he started moving in and out of her easily when something strange suddenly happened. Her eyes flashed open widely. Chloe placed her hand on his wrist, withdrawing the hand he had buried in denim.

She removed her leg from his waist. "No foreplay", she muttered against his lips, adjusting her footing before she tilted her head down and focusing all of her attention on removing his belt buckle.

He wanted to ask why, since foreplay pretty much extended the process and from his experience, was sometimes better than the actual sex.

But then she slid down his pants and boxers at the same time. And for some reason, she wouldn't let him undress her- she just took off her own jeans and panties.

She was different from the rest of the women that he had slept with- a lot more guarded, even with it came to sex. If she was so uncomfortable with the idea of sleeping with him, then why did she bring him here?

He wondered if she wanted him to take her in bed or something. Be a gentleman and offer to carry her over bridal style or some sentimental shit like that instead of taking her right here and now against the wall.

He normally treated women the same way- have sex that sometimes doesn't make it to the bed, maybe a second time in the bed, fall asleep, and then leave the place before she woke up. But here he was in some hotel that he didn't recognize, and he was thinking about how to approach the woman in question.

His thoughts were interrupted as Chloe ripped off the buttons of his shirt, pulling the sleeves off of his arms. He barely had time to register what was happening before she threw herself on him, making sure that he couldn't catch her naked bottom half, and landing both of them on the floor.

She laughed to herself a little bit before placing one leg on each side of him, climbing on top of his erection and pushing him down before she started to ride him methodically. She was still taking over, and if Oliver wanted to steal any sense of control or power from him at all, it had to be done now.

He grabbed her shoulders, pulled her close to him, and rolled over so that he was on top. Her eyes widened at the action, but she hadn't protested. Good.

Oliver started pumping inside of her, letting out a moan as she became wetter with each thrust.

"More", she gasped, fingernails digging into his back.

He moaned, feeling the pain as he started to increase the speed of his thrusts. She moved with him, her eyes rolling to the back of her head before closing. He let out a smirk. Looked like she liked losing control after all.

"How does it feel to have me inside of you instead of kicking me?" He asked her, the words barely able to form a sentence.

"What?" She breathed

"See, you should really be nicer to me, Miss Sullivan", he continued, making her last name sound anything but formal as he started pounding into her, not even knowing himself how he managed to sound so controlled right now.

All he knew was that he was going to come any second. And if he wanted to truly live up to his reputation, she needed to climax first. He needed her to.

"It really pays off in the end", he said, as her walls started pulsating around his member.

"Yes!" She screamed.

He continued to ram in and out of her, deep groans escaping from his lips with every re-entrance, not even capable of words anymore as she kept screaming. "Yes! Oh, yes! Faster!"

"Chloe", he gasped for air. It was the most warning he could give her before his own orgasm erupted, almost blinding him to his surroundings. He felt complete and total pleasure washing over him as he exploded inside of her, trying to savor the feeling for as long as he could.

He stayed inside of her for a couple of seconds as he caught his breath before pulling out and rolling to the other side. He was a bit disappointed that her shirt was still on, but that didn't matter right now. All he needed was a couple of minutes to recharge, and her top would come right off.

Oliver heard her shallow breathing over his own before he tried to make a joke. "What's your favorite color, again?" he asked

She took a deep breath, and sat up, tossing him a smirk before pulling on her panties and jeans. She stood up, walked over to her jacket, and put that back on too.

"What are you doing?" he asked. He wasn't done yet. He wasn't done with her yet. If she thought that he was done after one time, she was crazy.

She reached for her purse, and started for the door. "See you around, Danny."

She opened the door, slammed it shut, and Oliver wanted to go after her when he realized that he was completely naked. He walked over to the window, and saw her step into the cab that took them here.

Women didn't forget his name. It just didn't happen. And they never left him behind.


	5. Chapter 5

Summary: Chloe is trying to find a doctor to help her with her meteor infection and a playboy-like Oliver Queen is trying to find a a physician for his Green Arrow wounds. They begin a sexual relationship, which becomes a problem once Ollie's softer side develops.

Chapter Five

Oliver watched Emil working away in his office, flipping through a file as he sat down at the chair across from him. He pulled out one of the Styrofoam cups, and placed it on the file that Emil was working on before taking a sip from his own cup.

"How morally wrong would it be if I slept with one of your patients?" He asked, cutting right to the chase.

"It wasn't the 78 year old Alzheimer's patient you saw me with a couple of weeks ago, is it? Because then, we have to discuss your coming out party on top of the normal old morality issues."

Oliver rolled his eyes. "Very funny. It was Chloe Sullivan."

"The woman with tremors?"

The tremors? That's what he remembered?

"The woman with the amazing breasts", he corrected.

"You need to be careful", Emil said, reaching for another file and opening it up. "Meteor patients aren't exactly ideal for your usual escape act." He picked up his pen and flipped up a page. "On the other hand, you could just zip-line off of the roof, couldn't you?"

"I don't know, man. I think you might be wrong about her. She's a lot tougher than she looks. Won't hesitate to kick a guy in the balls."

"Before, after, or during?"

Oliver drank from the coffee cup as he thought of when on earth Chloe Sullivan would kick him in the balls during sex. He couldn't remember if she took off her shoes at all in that hotel room. He cringed at the thought of those heels, sexy as they were, damaging his boys.

"The day we met her, in the parking lot on my way out. So before", he answered.

"And you still went after her? Sure you don't have more stitches that I should examine? In your head, perhaps?"

"That's very funny", Oliver said, "See, it's weird. I wasn't really offended when she did that. Just in pain. I wasn't even too bothered when she tried to take the lead during sex, I just remedied the situation"

"-I know that I'm your primary physician, but still, too much."

Oliver didn't pay attention, just kept going. "It's not so much that she left my ass at the hotel right after it was over, it's the fact that she called me Danny on the way out. What the hell is up with that?"

Emil tossed the file to the side in silence and looked up at Oliver, examining him closely before taking a long drink from his coffee cup and setting it down.

He crossed his arms and leaned back in the chair slightly. "She really got to you."

"No she didn't", Oliver said automatically. "I just don't get it, that's all."

"Because it's never happened before."

"What?" Oliver asked

Emil pointed the pen at him. "She rejected you. That's why it bothers you. You're going to try and find her again, aren't you?"

Oliver didn't say anything. Because he really wanted to find her, wanted to throw her onto his bed and make her scream his name over and over again. It was probably the only way that he would right this horrible wrong.

It was really a crime that she had forgotten his name.

"Of course you are", Emil answered his own question. "I know that we agreed not to judge each other's social lives, and this isn't judging per se, but I feel like I need to warn you."

"What, is she going to try and kill me as well as take her anger out on my nuts? Cause I'll wear a bulletproof vest and a cup. Problem solved."

"She seems a little bit...textbook."

"How so?" Oliver asked

"She has this remarkable ability that is probably unique to just her. And by her behavior in the exam room the other day, the two of us are most likely the only people in the world who know about it. Even if she's the most sociable person in the world and has people who love and care about her, she's kept this private."

"You think that I'm going to crack her open and leave her", Oliver finished.

Emil nodded. "If you do, it'll destroy her. Don't."

Oliver wanted to be diplomatic about what to say next. But even though he spent his life lying, he didn't want to lie to Emil.

Truthfully, he was just willing to do whatever it took to get the stupid thought out of his head that maybe he should have been more chivalrous in bed.

If he didn't plan on carrying her over to the bed or cuddling after, then he certainly didn't have any plans on cracking open the shell and letting those messy emotions fall out.

Imagine a rotten egg. Does anyone really want that shell to crack? Stinks up the whole room.

"I think that she's stronger than you give her credit for. And that you overestimate me. I probably won't crack her open."

"If you're sure", Emil said before the phone went off.

"Dr. Emil, your 3:00 is here."

Emil pressed a button. "Thank you." He turned back to Oliver. "I've got to go", he said before standing up. "Just make sure you know what you're doing."

Oliver was searching through the Human Resources files in the basement of the Daily Planet in his gear, wondering if this was somewhere in the stalking area. He tried to get an address from Chloe's phone number, but when he called, all he got was a tired voice on the phone, insisting that there was no Chloe Sullivan living in Metropolis.

He knew that this was an impossibility. And even though he wanted to charm the pants off of the annoying receptionist at the clinic again to get an address, he knew that he would only get a mouthful for standing her up a couple of nights ago.

He was almost disappointed in himself for respecting Emil too much to break into his doctor friend's records, but only because this night was a bit too much. Not only did he nearly get shot at, helping a little boy who was getting mugged in the middle of the night (where the kid's parents were, Oliver had no idea) on his way over here, but he landed on the roof of the Daily Planet, absolutely clueless to how he was going to get in without someone spotting him.

He deactivated all of the security cameras with a handy device that he switched on. And Oliver got down to the basement by zipping down the stairwell. All he needed to do now was find the last name.

Strouse, Suderman, Sturkey. God, he knew what he was getting for A. Sturkey for thanksgiving. C. Sullivan.

There it was. Oliver pulled out the file and saw the first page.

Instead of finding a real address, he found the address of some place called the Talon in Smallville.

Chick lied on her human resources form. So much for finding her. Oliver doubted that there was even such a place as Smallville, Kansas. These people obviously didn't know her at all- she didn't look like the type from hillbilly land, Kansas. At least, she didn't have a weird accent.

Oliver couldn't imagine her making homemade jam. But he could imagine her wearing stilettos and an apron. And nothing else.

He took a picture of the address with his sunglasses just for kicks, and put the file back in the cabinet, pushing it shut and heading on out.

He walked out of the dusty room and was about to head back over to the stairwell where he fully planned on riding his own personal elevator up the stairs and getting back to his apartment when he saw one of the computers with the screensaver still on.

By the looks of the rest of the computers, the reporters were fairly religious about shutting down their computers, or at least turning the screens off. But this one still had the screensaver running. Curious.

Oliver crept over to the computer and was about to shut it off when he saw that there was someone still sitting at the desk. He peered at the head resting on the stack of pages and spotted the familiar blonde that he had been looking for.

He looked at the rough draft. It was titled The Aftermath of Dark Thursday, and it read well. There was a little note that she had jotted down on the post-it. Oliver examined it: no satellite pictures found. It was in capital letters and underlined angrily.

He was about to read more of her notes when a screen lit up on the desk. Her cell phone was on silent, but the light might do enough to wake her up. He stepped back from her desk and turned around, diving head first down the stairwell, pulling out an arrow and turning around, shooting the zip-line directly at the ceiling before it latched on, the rope pulling him directly upwards, left arm holding on before reaching the top.

He pressed a button, releasing the cable as he started falling down, landing on his feet in front of the door to the roof, pulling the door open and switching off the camera bug that he activated earlier before disappearing completely.

He carried huge bags in both arms as he pulled open the door and walked up to the counter, setting them down on a nearby table.

He ran a Google search of the Talon when he got back to his apartment, and was surprised to see that it was a real place. The Talon was some sort of coffee shop, and Smallville was an honest to goodness town.

Seriously, who names these things?

He looked up at the barista. Oh, good. It was a woman. No use going to the guy in the back. He'd just look at him funny, steaming milk in the corner. Unless the guy was gay, but since Oliver wasn't, it would just cause problems.

"Hi", he started, giving her a wide smile. "This is going to sound incredibly stupid, but does a woman named Chloe Sullivan live here?"

The woman smiled. "Not a stupid question. Her apartment's just up the stairs. And your timing's good too. She went up ten minutes ago."

"She doesn't have a roommate, does she?" He asked

"Not at the moment."

Oh, thank god. "Thanks so much." He picked up the bags and headed up the stairs, pausing just for a moment before knocking.

No answer.

He knocked again.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming", a voice grumbled.

She opened the door in a robe and gave him a shocked expression. "What are you doing here?" she asked

"Hungry?" He asked

For a split second, he thought that she was going to yell at him, or at the very least, make him explain. But she just opened the door, gave him a small smile, and said, "Come on in."

"Now, I wasn't sure about any allergies or preferences", he said, planting the bags down. "So I got a little bit of everything."

He was just waiting on her to use his name. And she must have known, because she didn't use it. She just shut the door and locked it, walked over to the kitchen, and pulled out some plates.

"Define everything", she said, closing the cabinet door.

She was wearing a robe.

"Food from around the world", he said, pulling out some dishes and setting them down. "Italian", he started, pulling open a dish to reveal some fried calamari. "Chinese", he said, pulling out cartons. "Thai", he set down another dish. "Swedish, if you're into that kind of thing", he said, pulling out some pea soup. "Armenian, just for kicks", he continued, pulling out some grape leaves, "And French as a final touch", he finished, pulling out some éclairs.

"No need to pull out the big guns", she said, picking up a carton of Chinese food and opening it. "We've already slept together, you know."

"Yeah, well, I'm hungry", he said, munching on some calamari. "Sight-seeing takes a lot out of a person, you know."

She stopped for a second. "So instead of touring the city, you figured that you would take a look at Smallville?"

"I saw Grandville too", he told her, even if he really did just drive past it. "Strangely, I don't see the hype."

"Well then, you'll be happy to know that this town lives up to its name."

He wanted her to say his name, even if it was to prove that she remembered him. That she didn't just let any person into her apartment.

"I don't know", he said. "I'm new. Could get lost without a tour guide."

"I'm sure you'll do just fine", she said, giving him a small pat on the leg.

All he had to do was give her robe a little tug and there would be nothing there.

He cleared his throat a little bit. "I almost forgot", he said, reaching for his briefcase and pulling out an envelope and handing it to her.

She looked at him curiously. "Property of Queen Industries." She read before opening it and pulling out the pages and flipping through them.

She still didn't say his name. Last name, yes. But for all he knew, she thought that his name was Danny Queen.

And really, what kind of a name was that?

"These are satellite images from Dark Thursday." She looked up at him. "How did you get these?"

"You said that you have real work to do. Figured this would be it." He took the images away. "If I was wrong, then I apologize."

He was about to put the pictures back in the envelope.

"No!" she stopped him. "You weren't wrong, it's just that..."

He smiled triumphantly and handed the envelope back to her. "Just what?"

"I don't want you to do me any favors."

"Are there any other reporters covering the story?" He asked "Want me to print images for them? Because I can, if it would make it fair."

She shook her head. "No, right now, it's just me. As a test run. But I don't want the images if it's just a perk to sleeping with you."

"I get the feeling that you would be able to write a hard-hitting piece even without the images", he said. But for some reason, it just didn't feel like some line to him.

He didn't know if it was her own insecurity or if it was because the line worked really well. But it had to be something to explain what she said next. "You know, I'm kind of glad that we're in the kitchen and not eating on the bed."

She stood up and walked over to him, pushing the dish away from him and putting one leg on either side of him. She sat down, put a hand around his neck, and pulled him in for a kiss.

He was surprised that she was forcing her tongue in his mouth so quickly. Strange- that was usually his job when it came to women.

"I don't know", he said as smoothly as he could muster. "I think it would be the only way to have sex in different countries at the same time."

He kissed her back forcefully, trying to state some sort of sense of power between the two of them, fingers playing with the knot on her robe as the fabric slipped a little bit. He pulled back when he felt lace.

Black lace. Oh, hello.

"How about I get this shirt off of you", she said, as he felt her rotating her hips in his lap slowly, grabbing the bottom of his top, "And maybe these jeans", she made a circle again. "And I'll play catch up?"

"Oh, well", he said, trying to make clear thoughts happen. What was going on with him? This wasn't his first time having sex, and it wasn't his first time with her either. "Whatever makes you comfortable."

She gently took a hold of his wrists and brought his arms upward before pulling his shirt up and throwing it on the ground. "We might have to go somewhere else to get these off", she said, trailing a hand down his chest and resting it right above the button of his pants.

"In that case", he breathed before placing a hand on her ass firmly and lifting her up off of the ground as he stood up. She wrapped her legs tightly around his waist and kissed him for a second before he pulled away.

Oliver looked around the apartment, trying to give himself some sort of refresher course on where the beds were. He swore he just saw them.

It was when he saw two beds that the confusion started. He thought that she didn't have a roommate. "So, should I be expecting visitors in the future, or can I look forward to you greeting me in a robe?"

She looked over her shoulder to where the bed was made, and took a little breath. "Well, since I was about to change my clothes to go eat when you showed up, that would be a no." She kissed him again, trying to distract him.

But he wasn't going to go for it again. This was the same woman who called him Danny, and damn it, it ends now! It was time for him to take control.

"Chloe, do you have a roommate?" he asked

"My…friend", she started, "doesn't live here anymore. Moved in with someone, but I keep her sheets around in case she decides to crash one day."

He shrugged and redirected her to the other bed, bringing her down. He could have sworn that he saw a flicker of sadness in her eyes before her head shook a little bit. "Right", she let out a breath, focusing on removing his pants before turning back to him. "Said I'd play catch-up, didn't I?"

She put a hand on her robe, about to unfasten it, when Oliver stopped her. "Let me", he said, undoing to knot with one hand and parting the fabric, watching Chloe's body revealing itself to him slowly at first, and then faster as he got impatient and removed the fabric before throwing it to the other side of the room.

Before this moment, he would have sworn up and down that it was solely a breast appreciator, but now he wasn't sure. Because as he was unfastening her bra clasp with one hand, he could stop thinking about how hard she had gotten him on the way to the bedroom when his hand was on her ass.

She grabbed his hands and placed them around the sides of her panties before putting her own hands on the elastic of his boxers. "Just to be fair", she said before fixing it so that they were both naked at the same time.

"Now, I forget", he said as he pushed her down and got on top of her. "How would we settle a tie?"

He was anxious- anxious enough for the condom to pull on and for him to slip inside of her before she could even blink. If she didn't want foreplay, then that was fine with him for now. It only meant that he needed to make sure that the finale was acceptable.

He didn't wait for her to adjust to his length this time. He heard her gasp at the contact, but it wasn't good enough for him. He was on a mission now. He thrust into her roughly, biting back the moan before it escaped from his lips.

There wasn't a woman alive who believed that they could experience sex in quite the same way once he was through with them. He left them- that was how it worked. They didn't forget his name, and he wasn't going to let that start now.

He continued to move in and out of her, up until he felt that she was about to reach her climax. It was difficult for him to stop, but Oliver took a deep breath, and remained completely still, hands holding her down so that she couldn't take initiative and finish the job.

"What are you doing?" She asked

"What's my name, Chloe?"

"What?"

He licked his lips and stared in her eyes as fiercely as he could muster. "What is my name?"

"Sure, like you could forget. Really funny", she said, pushing her body upwards and kissing him.

He pulled away. "I'm not kidding. I can stay here for hours", he said, kissing her neck and travelling downwards, stopping at one of her breasts. "The question is, can you?"

He fit the breast in his mouth, and started making wide circles with the tip of his tongue, narrowing the circles to the target of her areola.

It didn't matter if it was a target or a woman, he was going to make sure that he reached his goal.

"This", she said before letting out a shudder. "Shouldn't be…personal."

He withdrew his mouth before his tongue could strike the areola.

So much for not wanting foreplay. She wasn't pushing him away this time. Maybe she was too distracted.

This was ridiculous. How difficult was it for someone to say his name? He was giving himself blue-balls here. And seriously bordering on his actual capability to stay perfectly still inside of her.

"More like a common courtesy. And I'm telling you this as a person who has probably had more sex than you. It's in the rule book."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "What makes you say that?"

"I haven't seen you at the club meetings", he joked. "Chloe", he added before turning his attention to the other breast, repeating the process.

"It'll get complicated." Her breath was hitched. Good, she was as frustrated as he was.

He trailed his index finger down her body and lightly brushed it against her clit and bringing the finger back up before she could. "But less frustrating. Trust me, I have never felt compelled to go down on one knee."

"Ollie, can we please not have this conversation right now?" she grumbled

Ollie. And there it was.

Thank God.

He pulled out of her almost entirely before driving back in. "Who am I?" He asked as her eyes rolled to the back of her head.

Even though she had screamed his name out loud and he felt a sense of accomplishment in that, Oliver couldn't help from wondering if he knew the answer to that question himself.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

He felt like a stupid, stupid man. Oliver had maintained a perfectly pleasant ritual for the past couple of days- day job during the day, night gig at night, and an afternoon delight with Chloe at her place somewhere in between.

Except this time was different- he showed up after he had already washed up from a fairly tame patrol, proud of himself. He was getting the hang of this city, and wasn't getting lost or running around a wide circle of rooftops so much anymore.

But that didn't mean that he wasn't exhausted. It didn't mean that with the combination of board meetings, endless paperwork, a constantly buzzing phone regarding said paperwork, graphs and layouts being thrown at him in every direction, rooftop running for miles and miles, criminals, and very sweaty sex as a conclusion didn't make Oliver tired. And it didn't prevent him from dozing off.

It was pitch black when he drifted off, and the sunlight was blinding his eyes when he finally opened one. And while Oliver had prided himself on leaving her apartment either before or shortly after she did (he normally left as she was getting coffee), today wasn't the day.

The first thing that he saw when his eyes opened was the clean coffee cup lying out to dry. The woman was changed, and was slinging her bag over one shoulder when he sat up.

"Where are you running off to so quick?" he asked, stretching out a little bit.

"Work", she answered, pulling her cell phone out of her pocket. "You know, the place that keeps my paycheck hostage."

"What, no breakfast in bed or good morning kiss? I'm so disappointed", he joked.

She cracked a smile as she scrolled through the screen. "Five minutes. Sure, what the hell", she said before pressing a couple of buttons and putting the phone back in her pocket.

She walked back over to him. He wanted to point out that he would never take just five minutes when she stopped him.

"I'll have you know that I could get you off in five minutes, and by the end of it, you wouldn't even care about the stopwatch."

He let out a chuckle. He liked how blunt she was, how completely off she was from the usual women who pretended to be prudes. "Why don't you have a boyfriend?" He laughed

"What makes you think that you're the only guy?" She tossed back

And all of a sudden, he could only think of three letters that seemed to be flashing in his head.

STD.

He had always been so careful, and he shouldn't have just assumed that he was the only guy she was sleeping with. And now it wasn't going to end badly. That would be an awkward conversation with Emil. An even more awkward exam. Hopefully, he wouldn't have to turn his head and cough. Because that would be weird.

"God, Ollie, you're so fucking gullible", she said. "But you're right. We should probably establish some ground rules."

He leaned back, resting his weight on his elbows. "I'll warn you now. I'm an excellent negotiator."

"I don't think you'll have to. It's pretty simple. I really like sex, and I really like having sex with you."

He smiled. "Yeah, I've heard that. But that's not exactly a rule."

"Okay, smart ass, here it is. Nothing more than that. We keep it simple."

"Not looking for the white-picket fence life?" He asked

She shrugged. "Stopped looking for it the instant I was declared dead and woke up in a morgue later."

And he didn't have any witty retort or comeback. He didn't know what to say at all. He was never this quiet, ever. He used to talk to himself on the island, but that got old once he got tired of listening to his own voice.

People were asking him questions all of the time, whether it was in the board room or on camera. He always had an answer, but he didn't have a speech prepared for the woman in front of him.

"Sorry", she said, giving him an apologetic smile. "I…did that. Sorry."

"It's okay", he told her. "Simple means, not complicated."

"Wow", she laughed. "You should be on tv."

"What I meant was that simple means no bullshit. No covering up or lying. You gave me a straight up explanation. Nothing wrong with that."

He watched her stare at a wrinkle on the side of the sheet for a second before she spoke again. "So if I go days without seeing you, and then tell you that it's because I was busy at work, you wouldn't care?"

"No." He answered immediately. "Why, would you care if I went days without seeing you and then told you that it was because I got caught up at work? I know how you women get. 'Why didn't you call me?'" He put on a high, squeaky voice at the end.

She smiled and shook her head. "I really like that you're an ass", she told him. "Make sure you stay that way, and we shouldn't have any problems."

"Don't worry, I am an ass. And I have a nice one too."

She rolled her eyes and climbed on top of him, kissing his collar bone and moving up towards his jaw before her phone beeped.

She started to pull away from him, when he grabbed her face and planted a kiss on her lips, deepening it quickly before she pulled back. "Time's up, and I've got to go to work."

"It's six in the morning", he told her.

"Have you noticed the commute yet?"

"Forty horrible minutes", he agreed. "We're better off at my place."

"Too many cameras, and it's actually an hour and a half commute." She checked her phone again. "If you want to get to work on time, you should probably leave around now too."

"What, are you driving the speed limit?" He asked

She turned around as she opened the door. "I'll see you at the B&B later. See if we can make some old people blush?"

They met at the tiny B&B that she took him to that first time when she knew that it would be a waste to drive all the way to Smallville and then back to Metropolis for a long night at the Planet. It was just out of the city, and he didn't know if Chloe was friends with the woman who owned the place or what, but they had stayed out of the papers entirely.

"Sure, planning another late night, Sullivan? Wouldn't kill you to sleep once in a while."

She froze for a second. "I'm running late, I've got to go."

She was almost out the door when he realized that she was freaking out because he showed a little bit of common decency. He pulled on a pair of boxers and stopped her. "Wait, what just happened?" he asked

She cleared her throat. "What do you mean?"

"I told you to sleep once in a while. I didn't ask you to marry me. Relax."

"No, it's a slippery slope", she started. "First, you tell me to sleep once in a while, maybe you leave something behind here, we'll eventually talk about our feelings in some old barn, and oh my god, suddenly we're in a relationship."

"First of all, I'm not a fan of chick flick moments, and secondly, I don't even know where I would find an old barn without breaking into one. The chances of me having a chick flick moment while committing a crime is slim." He started

She let out a laugh.

"Secondly", he added. "Everything's simple, but that doesn't mean that we're not friends. And friends are allowed to talk about things other than where they're going to have sex next. Speaking of, I have a couple of ideas, but since we're both running a little late for work, that's for another time."

She took a breath. "Okay."

"Good, so I'm going to have a shower, and you're going to go to work. I'll see you at the B&B."

She still stood there slightly awkwardly, almost like she wasn't sure if she should give him a goodbye kiss. She really didn't like being too personal, did she?

Oliver gave her a little pat on the ass, and ushered her out the door before heading over to the shower.

He wondered just how right Emil was when he said that her behavior was textbook for a person who could do what she did. His first meeting wasn't for another couple of hours.

As he was changing back into the clothes that were scattered around the apartment, Oliver realized that Emil would probably know more about these abilities and how she got them. He drove over to the hospital, to find that it was a lot busier than normal.

He walked up to the reception desk, and said hello, ignoring the rolling eyes of the red-head in the back.

"What's going on?" He asked the larger woman.

"Gun-shot patient came rushing in twenty minutes ago. Dr. Hamilton had to do the surgery, so we had to change around all of his appointments for the day and get some people to come in and cover his patients. Everyone's a little on edge today", she warned.

So instead of saving a man or woman from being shot this morning, he was sleeping. Good job, Oliver.

"Who brought him in?"

"I guess it's that Red-Blue Blur that the papers used mentioned a couple of years ago."

"The what?" Oliver asked

"Some guy at the Daily Planet caught a Good Samaritan mysteriously saving people a couple of years back. The only evidence that the kid found was a red and blue blur speeding away from the crime."

"So some guy wearing purple sped away?"

"No, Red and Blue", the woman answered. "You really are an out-of-towner, aren't you? He's one of Metropolis' mysteries. No one's heard from him in a while, I guess he's back. Must have been responsible for that woman randomly showing up here a month ago too."

The woman? The woman that Oliver got slashed in the leg for? "No, I heard that the woman showing up here was saved by a guy in green."

"Well, maybe he changed his color then."

"No", Oliver corrected. "I think there might be two of them."

"I really doubt it", the woman said as the phone rang. "People like that don't just exist."

She picked up the phone, and Oliver walked away from reception without another word.

There was an in progress museum break-in later that night. Someone had stolen a priceless painting and the Green Arrow was trying to track down the culprits, his composite bow in his hand and loaded. He ran through the hallway, trying to ignore the flickering of the red lights and the incessant noise of the alarm sounding. Focus, Oliver, focus.

Somewhere in this place, there was a group of people trying to haul around a painting. That had to be heavy enough to slow them down. He flipped through different slides on his glasses with the click of a button to get an overview of the blueprints.

Oliver had the nagging feeling that this job would probably be a hell of a lot easier if he had someone helping him out, but unless Emil suddenly became a tech junkie, that idea was a flop. So Oliver kept running, trying to keep the route straight in his mind to avoid circles.

Whoever these guys were, they obviously knew enough to figure out where all of the cameras were. They were all shut off. It saved him time- that's all he would be thankful for.

At least he knew that the painting was big enough for them to stop them from escaping via the air-ducts. But that didn't mean that he couldn't use that little trick to help cover more ground. Oliver stuck the arrow back in his quiver, folded up the bow, disassembled one of the vents, and pulled himself into the tiny space. He didn't bother shining a light around to calm his own claustrophobic nerves.

He pulled out a device, and pressed a couple of buttons, trying to see if the device could wirelessly synch to the cameras so that he could switch them back on now that his identity wasn't compromised. He put his sunglasses back on and turned on his infrared software to pick up on moving thermal images.

There. Oliver crawled in the direction of the heat signatures and saw them moving towards what looked like the back door. When he ended up a little bit ahead of them, he slid open the cover, and loaded his crossbow with tranquilizer darts, shooting one of the people as they walked past.

He jumped down from the vent, rolling onto the floor, and standing up in front of the group, making sure that his voice distorter was switched on.

"I'd bet a lot of money that that painting doesn't belong to you", he said.

"Finders keepers" One of the men said.

Oh, really?

Oliver shot another dart at a person in the back, and waited for the other two to attack him. He threw the one to the left at an empty wall, and grabbed the second one, throwing him down on the floor and punching him in the temple. When the first one recovered from his fall, Oliver pulled out another dart and shot him with it.

He grabbed the painting, changed the screen on his glasses so that he could see where to return it, and inspected the pile of people in front of him. "Sorry guys. Finders keepers."

Oliver carried the painting gently to the case where it was being held, and was about to get it back in when the blueprint on the side of his glasses disappeared. Before he could wonder what happened to his visual, there was a sudden gust of wind that sent him flying to the wall.

"Well, that's just not fair", he said. "I was returning that."

"Funny. To me, it looks like you're trying to steal it."

Oliver got up and looked at the guy in his blue jacket. "What are you doing, trying to score a prom date with a good story? I don't roll that way, sorry."

He shot a dart at him, but it didn't stick. The guy didn't collapse like they usually did. Oliver never missed. What the hell happened?

Blue jacket, red shirt. Speeding in to save the day. Almost like a Blur.

"You must be the Blur that everyone's talking about. I've got to be honest with you, I think it's a ridiculous name."

"There's a group of people in the next hallway who are knocked out." The man picked up the dart on the floor, and crushed it in his hand. "And by the looks of it, it's your doing."

"They were trying to steal the painting. I saw them with it."

"Your first instinct was to attack me."

"You shoved me against the wall! It was self-preservation!"

There was a ringing coming from the man, and he picked up the phone. Oliver picked up the crushed dart on the floor. The titanium tip was crushed where it probably made impact. "I've got it." He heard the man say. "I'm returning it now."

Oliver scoffed. "Didn't anyone teach you that lying's bad?" He grabbed the painting away from the man and stuck it back in the display case.

The man gave him a dirty look before speeding off, and Oliver headed back over to the roof before zip-lining back to his apartment.

"What do you know about this Red-Blue Blur guy?" He asked Chloe in bed at the Inn the next day after they had sex.

"The Blur? He hasn't made an appearance in Metropolis in a while. If you ask me, he doesn't exist."

She let out a laugh. "I think it's actually kind of funny. Jimmy- he's the guy who wrote the story- I swear he put the blurring colors there on purpose to sell it. He's a photographer, into special effects and all that. It's really nothing to look into, Ollie."

He knew that there was more to it than that. She was ambitious, he at least knew that about her by now. Ambitious enough to not rest if there was the slightest glimmer of a story being there. And it looked like she was giving up a bit too much a story.

"So you don't think that there are maybe some people who are out saving the people from crime?"

She was silent for a moment before answering. "I think…that it's a great idea. But it's just that. An idea."

Oh, the temptation. Resist it. Don't tell her that you're a vigilante just to prove a point. He wished that he had helped that person in the hospital instead of wasting time.

"Yeah, you're probably right", he said instead. "I just think that it might be nice. Even though I donate money to charities." Donate money to charities, jump around rooftops, same thing. "It sometimes just doesn't feel like I'm doing enough."

"Does this usually work for you?" she asked

"What?"

"The self-pitying thing. Does it usually work for you? Be all deep and emotional and women just fall at your feet?"

So much for trying to open up a little bit, even if Oliver didn't know why he was trying to. Probably a thing that friends did, except friends were rarely naked together.

"Why, is it working on you?" He asked, kissing her. "Does self-pitying get you hot?"

"Nah", she said, kissing his collarbone. "But this does." She climbed on top of him and kissed him. He grabbed her and switched places so that he was on top, but she just kept pushing him to the bottom.

They were both so focused on being in control that they both toppled out of bed onto the floor, laughing.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

It took him hours, but Oliver was able to draw the Blur's face. The guy may have been Metropolis' own hero, but the Green Arrow was the new guy in town, and he was no flake. While the Blur didn't hear Oliver's real voice or see his face properly because of the glasses and hood, Oliver saw everything.

The guy probably had a bigger ego than he did, if that was possible. He ran around in his street clothes. And the flannel shirt- Oliver could see the color peeking out from the jacket. He saw his face, and here is was right in front of him.

He scanned it at the workstation he set up in the penthouse, and ran it through databases until he found a name: Clark Kent. His current location was in a Barn at Smallville.

Oliver remembered Chloe mentioning that she didn't want a hug-it-out session in some old Barn. She knew Clark Kent, and probably knew that he was running around as the Red-Blue Blur.

He didn't care if she knew what the guy could do or not. They agreed to keep things simple. Complicated would be asking her if she knew him, and it was an unnecessary discussion.

But it didn't mean that Oliver didn't want to make sure that he was right. So he ran the name through a database again, and hoped that something came up. When it did, Oliver found article after article from some high school newspaper called the Torch.

Curious, he browsed through one of the articles. Just to find a letter from the editor, who was Chloe Sullivan.

He just shrugged it off, taking pride in the accomplishment of figuring out who the Red-Blue Blur was in a mere couple of hours while the rest of the city was still blind, and went to work, only to argue with the members of his board about a deal that was going on in Japan. Queen Industries was after a big company there, and from the looks of it, he was going to have to fight Luthorcorp in getting them.

The Board was pretty sure that they should maintain a positive business relationship with Luthorcorp so that all of the top dogs would get along. The CFO said that if they tried to pick this battle and lost, stock value would drop. Oliver told him that he would stop trying to win battles with Luthorcorp once Lex and Lionel extended them the courtesy first, and until that day comes, they needed to fight fire with fire.

None of them believed him, putting Oliver in a sour mood as the meeting came to a close. He returned to his office, and continued his work when his cell phone went off.

He let out a sigh, ignoring it. It was probably the CFO, sending him another projection. Goddamn graphs.

The phone vibrated again five minutes later since he hadn't checked it. Oliver put down his pen. No need to prevent the inevitable. He picked up the phone.

_B&B. Twenty minutes._

He perked up, grabbed his keys and coat, and left the office before anyone could stop him.

She was waiting in the same room when he showed up. "You're late", she said.

"And you're already naked", he said, noticing that she was covered in the sheets but nothing else. 

"Well, you were late, but you came around in the nick of time. I almost decided to forget about you and just get myself off instead."

Hello, erection.

"Oh yeah?" He asked as he loosened his tie before removing it completely. "Glad you changed your mind."

He took off his shirt and shoes before pulling off his pants and boxers in one go. He landed on the bed and started kissing her.

Luthorcorp was trying to beat him out via the business and Clark Kent was beating him out via the hero department. What was with people from Smallville?

He remembered finding an archive of old Smallville High yearbook photos. Clark Kent may have been wearing flannel the other day, and the Barn was just speculation on Oliver's part, but the guy was the football quarterback too. What did Oliver do back in prep school? Just bully people around.

He kissed Chloe deeply, trying to forget about the fact that while he was responsible for the death of an innocent kid back then, Clark Kent was finding weird caves and saving Chloe from freezing to death in a pool. But it didn't seem to be working.

Whatever was going on in his head, this Clark Kent guy was killing his erection. And it looked like Chloe was noticing.

She pulled away. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything's fine. Just a stressful day at work." He leaned back in, trying to think of anything else but Clark Kent and the Luthor family.

Hot models, arrows, Green Arrow, museum, stupid Blur taking credit for the painting save. Chloe's breasts at the hospital.

There was a picture in the yearbook archive of Chloe and Clark with the caption: Best Buds. He wondered if they ever slept together.

She pulled back again. "Ollie?"

"I'm sorry", he said. "I don't know what's wrong with me today."

She grabbed him and flipped him over on his back, and started kissing down his body. "Let me see what's troubling you, Mr. Queen."

He managed to crack a smile to make it seem like he wasn't freaking out. This had never happened to him before. What the hell was the matter with him? A hot woman was about to go down on him, and he couldn't feel a single thing.

Oliver supposed that he ought to be thankful that thinking about a guy was killing his erection. But he didn't like that he was thinking about a guy while trying to have sex with Chloe at all.

What concerned him the most was that she had fit his dick inside of her mouth to help the cause, and was starting to suck on it, but nothing was happening. And he knew that she was against foreplay.

She stopped when she realized that nothing was happening, and rested her head on his chest, staring up at him intently.

"I am so sorry", he told her. "This has never happened to me before."

"I can see that", she said. The two of them were completely silent for a moment before she started laughing hysterically.

"You think this is funny?" He asked

"No", she breathed. "I'm sorry, I'm just"

"-just what?"

"Just thinking about how tabloids would respond if they realized just how human you really are!"

"Human?" He asked "As opposed to what?"

"Look", she said, sitting up. "It's fine. Nothing to be ashamed about."

"I hate this", he complained. "I just want to have sex."

"Well, looks like your body is telling you otherwise. Now, sit up."

Okay, so since he couldn't have sex with her, she was probably going to kick him out of the room so she could just get herself off and call it a day.

He sat up, but instead of her getting up and putting her clothes back on, she shifted so that she was right behind him. She put each hand on his shoulders, and started to massage them gently. "Talk to me", she whispered. "Tell me about your day."

He closed his eyes. "I don't want to talk about my day."

"Well, Ollie, you've clearly taken sex off of the table. We've got to do something."

He was quiet for a moment. He couldn't remember talking about his day with a woman after his parents died. "I've never done this before." He managed, still not sure why she hadn't left.

"Start at the beginning." He could feel her breath on his skin. "Start with 'I woke up'."

"Are you pulling a late night at work?" He asked her

"No."

"Do you think the room service is any good here?" He asked

"Maybe later. Go ahead."

"I swear, it really does neutralize the pain!" He told her three hours later.

She started laughing. "I'm sorry, it's probably the silliest thing you could do! You just peed on yourself!"

"Hey, I was on a deserted island. There weren't exactly hospitals or people watching me. It was out of necessity!"

She picked up another biscuit and opened a small jam pack. "These things, I swear, you need at least two packets to cover one."

She took a bite of the biscuit and walked over to the chair. "Hey, where are you going?" He asked

"I'm getting my laptop and I'm googling what you're really supposed to do if you get stung by a jellyfish."

"Go ahead", he said. "It'll just prove me right."

She opened the lid, and he could have sworn that he saw the home page for the museum he was at last night before the window flashed and Google popped up.

"Looks like alcohol would have been a better bet."

"Yeah, well, this wasn't exactly a Pirates of the Caribbean stranded island. I didn't have rum lying around."

She closed the computer and rested it on the nightstand. "Well, you wouldn't have worked well in that scenario, either. Thankfully, you have a pretty hairless back. You couldn't have made a raft out of turtle shells."

"Turtles don't really hang around near the shallow water."

"I still say peeing on yourself was silly."

"Oh yeah?" He asked before tickling her.

She started laughing instantly. "Stop tickling me!" She managed in one breath.

After the initial awkward step in talking about himself, opening up to her seemed almost easy. He didn't know what it was about her.

She stopped moving for a moment. "Oh, hello", she said, looking down.

He looked down. He didn't even feel the erection happen in the first place. Maybe talking to her helped.

"Just keep talking", he said softly.

"No more talking", she answered before lining herself up with him as he entered her.

And for the first time for him, sex wasn't a task. It wasn't to be done quickly so that he could get the pleasure that he wanted from her and then leave. It wasn't about control, it was about taking the time to really see someone. To see her.

As he did, he became a mixture of worried and curious. She had scars on her body, maybe even as much as he did, and they didn't look like ordinary scrapes and grazes. They looked different, dangerous.

He moved in and out of her slowly, afraid that if he pushed her too far, something bad would happen. Even though she liked to make fun of him, she still listened. She didn't seem skittish for sticking around with him, even though they weren't having sex.

It was a first for him, and he really not wondering whether or not he was going too far with the personal stories. Some members of the board used to suggest that he see a psychiatrist when he came back from the island. They were afraid that the re-adjustment would be too much for him.

Of course, Oliver ignored them, continued business as usual, and started taking any confusion or aggression out on the bad guys. He always considered being the Green Arrow as his sense of therapy- that going to see some shrink wasn't going to help him as much as making the world better could.

He was still against therapy, but he liked how she listened to him here. Not because she was getting paid for it, or because she could tell people that Oliver Queen was coming to her office. Chloe wasn't even listening because she knew that she was going to get an orgasm out of it. In fact, this connection with her was purely emotional and purely selfless.

And he didn't want that connection to end. He saw the scars on her body, and he was afraid that something was going to happen to her, something that wasn't going to just heal over.

He stayed awake after she did, and Oliver did something new- he reached out for her, and held her through the night. And even though sometimes in her sleep, it seemed like she wanted to separate from him, he kept a hold on her.

It had been so long since he had cared about someone that he almost forgot what it was called.

He wanted to protect her. Keep her safe. Which is why he was shocked in the morning. Because after they were showered, dressed, and fed, he casually told her that he would call or text her.

They were both almost out the door when she said, "Don't."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

She was joking wasn't she?

"Yeah, I'll call you", he said, letting it slide.

"I'm not kidding."

This was why he didn't open up to people.

"What?"

She adjusted the laptop bag. "I can't do this."

She walked out of the door, but that wasn't a good enough explanation for him. He didn't care if he made a scene as old people were eating breakfast.

"That's bullshit", he said. "What happened to things being simple?"

She turned around. "That's my point. It's supposed to be simple. But here, we are, talking, and sure, it's in some B&B. It's an emotional toothbrush, and I can't do that."

"It can't be simple if you keep making it seem so rigid. You want to give me a reason why we can't actually be friends?"

"We are friends", she insisted.

"No, because friends talk about their life, and they don't freak out about it afterwards."

She let out a laugh. "I am _not_ freaking out."

Bull. "Oh _really?_"

"It's just as well, then", she said. "Look, I just can't, okay? It's like an emotional peanut allergy. I become a weird version of myself, swell up, and my throat just stops working. I just can't."

He wanted to stop her, but she had run away before he could. And on the way out, she shot him a look that clearly told him not to follow her.

"I'm actually allergic to peanuts, you know!" He called out after her.

His first instinct was to go to Emil and ask him what was going on with her, but he had a feeling that the doctor would just spout some more "she has a textbook personality" crap.

"Look, if you're serious about pursuing this deal, then you have to go to Japan, meet with the clients, and pitch a better deal than the Luthors. It's the only way to do it", the vice-president said. "Make sure that you sign a contract with them right then and there."

It made sense for Oliver to take a trip and negotiate a deal with the Japanese, but he just didn't want to run off to another continent without having a good name established in Metropolis. He had work to do as the Green Arrow. And there was still Chloe to think about- he didn't want to just run off without saying anything.

"I just got here, Matt. There's still some work that I have to oversee before running around halfway across the world for one almost client. We can do better. If we want to expand our clientele in Asia, then we need to get a team over there for at least a couple of months, and we can't do that unless we get a longer list. It's a waste of time otherwise."

"That's exactly what one of the Luthors would say."

The guy was trying to bait him, and normally, it would work. But Oliver looked at the clock and saw that they had been talking about this for an hour and a half already.

He wasn't making any progress here, but he had a feeling that he could figure this all out, the Japanese and Chloe, if he just got out of the office and stopped letting Matt try and control him.

He sat up from his desk, grabbed his keys and put on his coat. "Then shave my head and give me a name that starts with an L. I'm making the right call. Good to see you."

The drive to Smallville was a lot more relaxing than Oliver thought that it would be. He spoke to one of the baristas in the building- Chloe wasn't here yet.

Oliver drove to Smallville. He spoke to one of the baristas inside- Chloe wasn't here yet. He had a feeling that she would probably turn around if she saw him through a window if she was walking around outside, so instead of having a seat and enjoying the warmth, he walked out the door and sat down outside near the door.

He waited for four hours before the woman came outside and offered him a cup of coffee.

"On the house", she said. "It's cold out here."

He wanted to protest, or to pay for it, but she had already left. It really was cold out here- he would have had a lot easier of a time doing this if they were all just in Star City.

The woman came back an hour later with an insulated pot, and another hour later, with an electric blanket that she plugged in. He gave her his thanks before she went back inside, and kept waiting.

Oliver ignored business calls and texts from his assistants. He just waited outside of the coffee shop in a pressed suit and poured himself cup after cup of coffee. He could see why living here was good for Chloe. The coffee was supposed to be the best in town, and even though Smallville was very small, the coffee lived up to its name.

He would probably have better luck waiting inside of his toasty car. But then there was the chance that he could fall asleep and miss her, and even though it was freezing outside, the cold did help him stay awake.

He was getting restless waiting here. Chloe was purposefully ignoring him, he knew that. Oliver knew that he was wasting his time here. He should probably stop ignoring the texts and check his email. Maybe return some phone calls.

He should get in his gear, go back to Metropolis, and actually do something that would have an impact on the world later. And even if he just didn't give a damn about the world, he could always pick up some random woman at a bar or a club to help him forget why he was here.

He had a feeling that Emil was wrong. That he wasn't just waiting here because she rejected him. It was something else, and Oliver couldn't put a finger on it. Or a word, for that matter.

He did notice that the barista was incredibly nice to him. Fed him and kept him topped off in coffee. She kept him fuelled for the night before closing the shop.

The barista returned an hour after the sunrise. "I guess she's still not back yet."

Oliver knew that if he kept up with the small-talk, he could sleep with the barista if he wanted to. She liked him enough, and she wasn't incredibly horrible looking. She wasn't a minor and she wasn't old.

But it was kind of suspicious, how nice she was being to him. Probably a nice check with a lot of zeroes. And normally, he would. But he would rather receive a nice signed business contract with the Japanese. Oliver would love to frame the thing and dance around with the contract in front of the Luthors.

Would the business contract or saving the world stop any of them from thinking that Oliver was a murderer? That he was responsible for the death of a young boy?

_This is about having an hour or two's release from the pain that is being you._

"Why are you so nice to me?" He asked the woman. "You don't even know me."

She shrugged as she unlocked the door. "Chloe's been a customer here for a long time. She probably keeps us in business. Any friend of hers is okay with me."

The woman opened the door and started her day. He just focused his attention on the passing people, trying to see if Chloe was among them.

Time passed, and he swore that he could have counted to infinity, the amount of times he saw that windmill go around. But he finally saw her at 6 in the evening, looking pretty much as tired and dead as he did.

Oliver stood up before walking around a little bit to get some of the circulation back in his legs. She was surprised to see him, he could read that much on her face.

"How long have you been waiting there?" she asked

"Almost two days." He checked his watch. "Ah, actually, a little more than two days. So, how have you been?"

"Had to take an unexpected trip somewhere", she said, looking at him intently in silence for a moment. "Two days?"

He nodded.

"And you haven't left once?"

"Peed a little in that cornfield, keeping an eye on the entrance the whole time."

She looked down for a second, her hands in her pockets. "When you end it, I get to hate you", she said softly. "I get to be emotional, I get to be so angry that I shoot darts at a picture of your face that I find in the papers, and I reserve the right to get drunk with my cousin and tell her mean lies or embarrassing stories about you. And not say which one is real or not."

He wanted to say something back, but couldn't think of anything. All of that time waiting for her to show up, and he never rehearsed anything. All he wanted to do was make sure that he saw her again.

He needed to say something back. She was waiting for him to say something back. "Okay."

"You don't get to meet my friends or family, and you don't get to have sex with any random women you find on the street. We won't double date with other couples we find, or go to any parties together. You don't get to move in to my apartment, and you don't get to instigate those conversations about marriage and kids. Whatever this is, it is. And when it's over, I get to be mad, understand?"

"Are you done?" He asked

"Yes."

"Can I say something?"

She nodded silently, still looking down at her shoes.

"Would you look at me?" He asked, tilting her chin up with a finger

She took a deep breath, giving him a slightly annoyed, stubborn look.

"You don't get to block me out." He told her

"I won't be able to answer everything. Sometimes, it's not my place."

He assumed that it meant that she wouldn't tell him that Clark Kent was The Red-Blue Blur. He understood.

Oliver understood a little too well. Because if she knew what Clark did on his spare time, and so adamantly protected him by closing people out, then there was the chance that she would understand that he had his own night-time gig as well.

"There are some questions I can't answer myself", he told her.

She looked at him. "No, it goes beyond some little identity crises", she said. "It's complicated." She took another deep breath. "See, this is the problem- I can't even explain what realm of complicated it is without going into it."

Identity crisis? That was sort of close. If he squinted, maybe the problem could seem normal.

"Like if you explain one thing, you'd have to give someone a crash course on your life?"

"Yes!" She exclaimed. "Almost just like that."

"Then let's just say that we don't want to give a crash course when it comes up. So where, were you, anyway?"

She let out a laugh. "Trust me, you don't want to know."

She opened the door to the Talon, and they walked upstairs to her apartment. Oliver unplugged the electric blanket, picked up the thermos and gave it back to the barista, thanking her before heading upstairs and catching up to Chloe.

He saw her as she opened the door to her apartment. She looked at him.

"Two days, huh?" She asked

He nodded.

"Why am I pissed off at you already?" She asked as she took off her coat, and then three more layers of shirts and two pants.

She was still wearing pants and a t-shirt. Where the hell was she?

He ignored it and kissed her instead of asking questions, or telling her that it was probably because she didn't expect to see him there.

He most likely ruined any plans that she had of ending whatever they were doing. He took off his own coat and she loosened his tie. She didn't remove it, and gave the tie a little tug, pulling him closer to her.

"Have I mentioned how much I like seeing you in a suit?" She mumbled

"You're tired, aren't you?" He asked, pulling away.

"Exhausted, but I still want you."

"Me too", he said, pulling off tie. "And I think that I finally know just how much coffee you drink a day."

"So I'm exhausted, and you're jacked up on caffeine. What are we going to do?"

"How many more layers of clothing do you have on?" he asked

"The necessities", she said as she unbuttoned his shirt, starting at the collar and working her way down. "Ask me where I went, and I'll ask you how you got the stitches on your leg." She kissed his neck before focusing on the buttons.

"Sky-diving gone wrong", he managed to say.

She reached her hands behind her own back before pulling her shirt and bra off at the same time. Well, that was unexpected.

She climbed on top of him, pushed his shirt off of his shoulder, and pressed herself against his chest. She kissed his jaw and worked up to his ear.

She nibbled on his earlobe before he heard the whispering, clear as day. "Can't lie to a liar, Ollie."


	9. Chapter 9

Cure, Chapter Nine

There was an empty glass of whisky and a half-empty bottle on the table, and as he sat staring at the light reflecting on the crystal for a moment, Oliver noticed that his phone was vibrating.

He glanced at the screen, but it wasn't to check and see who was calling. He knew that it was the same stupid message- Incoming call from: Emil Hamilton. Instead, he looked at the time, wishing that he could extend it somehow.

He rested the phone on the table and poured himself another drink, his eyes unconsciously flickering to the couch every couple of seconds. Soon, the battery would force his phone to shut down and he wouldn't have to deal with the calls and messages.

He wondered what would happen to him without the distraction.

_You can't stay here._

He had spent the night trying to come up with a strategy of how to get his company where they needed to go internationally to compete with the Luthors, but the research stopped three hours after the last employee left.

Oliver started doing research on people with abilities. It looked like Lex's 33.1 project was just one of a list of people around the world who were experimenting on outstanding people out of fear.

The research on extraordinary beings who could do things that he never would have imagined possible took away from time that should have been spent on business deals. He knew that he was in trouble. He was already trying to go head to head with both Luthors instead of teaming up with one and either putting a son in his place, or sticking it to Daddy.

Midnight turned into 3 AM, but he couldn't stop reading article after article. The words were familiar, and he couldn't put his finger on it. Assuming that he was just tired, he packed up his things and started to head over to the penthouse.

Harvard had granted him an honorary graduate degree in business six months after he had returned from the island. They said that it was for being one of the most successful businessmen in the world- that a fellowship with Queen Industries would be a terrific opportunity for any graduate. And that was all fine, except Oliver knew the truth.

They gave it to him because they were surprised that he hadn't fallen apart. He readjusted too quickly. Two nights later, he stayed up all night and slept with seven expensive escorts before he realized that paying for sex was too easy.

He didn't deserve the little piece of paper that others spent years chasing. Not while he knew that his business wasn't as good as when his father ran things. His company knew it, and Oliver didn't let himself be blind to it.

He distracted himself from it, but on nights like these, he really felt the truth- that he wasn't truly qualified for his job. People were looking to him to make decisions that he had a hunch he would be more sure about if he spent less time trying to survive in a deserted island and more time writing a dissertation.

Archery hadn't prepared him to run a Fortune 500 company. Oliver dropped the keys on the sidetable in the dark and stopped short for a second when he realized that someone was sleeping in his bed.

_I've got to be honest, out of all of the things that you could have been doing, this one was a lot closer to familiar waters than I could have thought possible._

The voice was quiet, and was echoing instead of coming from one place. He quietly sidestepped into the kitchen and pulled open the fridge, taking a bottle of water and closing the door. There were only two people with the security code, while both of them were too proud to crash here instead of at work, he would have too many questions to ask if Emil was in his bed.

Might explain the guy's celibacy, but wouldn't explain why he was here. It made more sense to assume that it was Chloe.

He checked the security of the Arrow room- the only person who had opened the door was him, and that was yesterday for patrol. It was a good thing that he hadn't patrolled tonight.

For a moment, he swore that he saw a flash of fire surrounding him.

"Hey", a sleepy voice said. "Sorry I just dropped by. I didn't trust myself to drive home and for some reason, I can only accidentally fall asleep at my desk."

He ignored the strange feeling that something was out of place and walked over to her. "It's okay, I just wish I was here earlier to let you in." He leaned forward and kissed her.

She pulled away and sat up. "Ollie, I really don't want to have sex right now."

He sat down next to her. "We're allowed to be in the same room without having sex, you know. Can I get you anything? There's Chinese food in the fridge."

"Thanks, but I'm fine. How was your day?"

"Long", he said, loosening his tie and taking off his shoes. "Yours?"

She let out a sigh. "Dramatic."

"Want to elaborate?" He asked

"Not really."

He pulled off his shirt and lay down on the bed. He was about to pull the covers on both of them when it looked like a chunk of the ceiling was about to fall down on Chloe. He covered her with his body, preparing for something to hit his back, but nothing did.

"Are you okay?" She asked

_You're going to be okay. I'm going to figure something out, okay?_

"What are you going to figure out?" He asked her

"What?"

He looked up at the ceiling, which was perfectly steady. "I'm probably just tired or something", he said, lying down again. He closed his eyes to sleep when he saw the flash of fire again. His eyes snapped open and there was a small crack in the ceiling that hadn't been there before.

The crack was starting to spread, the line travelling along the ceiling. "Chloe, do you see that?" He asked

He looked over, but she wasn't there. He was alone.

_Shit, this wasn't supposed to happen. _

A bright light was coming through the crack in the ceiling. "Chloe?" He called out as the light started to fill the room as the crack got deeper.

The crack in the ceiling started to almost resemble a pattern of veins as the light filled the room. His eyes were forced shut. He felt an external heat enter his body from somewhere and spread throughout his body.

Heat. He was in a fire.

This here? Lying in bed with Chloe at the end of a busy work day- this was last night. He remembered staying here with her until night turned into day, day turned into the next night. He finally slipped out of bed when his cell phone went off because someone had a question to ask. He remember thinking that people were off their game a little bit, if it took them this long to try and track him down.

She had woken up and left before he got back, there was disappointment. And then he checked the news, saw that there was a fire, not far from there. He got in his gear, and barely looked back as he switched on the voice distorter, pulled on the hood, and jumped out of the balcony.

He remembered hearing the police transmissions on his way to the building, the voices continuing as he created a hole on the roof as he dropped down, almost making the entire structure crumble on top of him.

There was a child huddled in a corner, covered in a yellow blanket and crying. He scooped him up and nearly got them both killed getting out of there.

An uncoordinated batch of sirens blocked out the voice of the paramedic who had rushed over to him, asking if he was okay. The woman had moved quickly, taking the child from his arms before turning to retrieve a supply of oxygen and a mask.

He checked her out before his eyes drifted over to the faces in the crowd that had formed. They were like ants crowding over a dropped piece of food, all of them. Their faces were the same, filled with terror. He scanned all of the faces until he found one man, who was flicking the cover of a lighter back and forth, a look of pleasure on his face.

Oliver was a little bit dizzy, but he wasn't delusional enough to make up the look of a man who looked like he was about to get off on the fear of others here. He started running towards the crazed maniac, when he caught on and started running away. The paramedic probably wanted to know where he went while he was running.

He ran into the alleyway, not even thinking about the danger, just knowing that the guy that he was chasing was responsible for the fire. That there might have been a person or two that he couldn't go back inside of the burning building to save now, lives that were lost.

He didn't realize that one maniac on the street would turn into seven carrying weapons. He didn't anticipate needing to fight through his own failing senses as seven people seemed to turn into fourteen as the dizziness continued. He disarmed a man with a gun, pulling out the ammunition and throwing it aside when he realized that he was starting to have trouble breathing.

A majority of them were taken out with taser darts, electricity disarming them and knocking him out. Except the dizziness caused one too many misfires, so he needed to resort to hand-to-hand combat in order to take out the remaining two.

He didn't stop punching until they were all on the ground. He thought that they were all knocked unconscious, so he bent down, hands on his knees, and started coughing.

Fifteen seconds he was distracted, trying to get himself back in control. Fifteen seconds of vulnerability, and when the fifteen seconds were over, something sharp hit his back, and even though he was about to stand up fully and get going, he found himself frozen in place somehow.

He was only able to identify the sharpened pole that the thug had struck him with because a small portion of one end was sticking out of his stomach.

He fell down couldn't get back up, and he felt the terror that the faces in the crowd had felt. They were so far away from him now, and he felt the helplessness of his voice not being able to travel the distance needed.

He couldn't get up or run, and he definitely wasn't going to just sit here and wait to die. He fumbled with his crossbow until it unfolded again, and he fit a zip-line arrow in place.

It was normally better to travel if he was completely vertical, since that was the only way to really see where he was going, but he couldn't complain now. He launched the arrow, and let the cable lift him up in the air until he landed on a random rooftop.

He reached for his cell phone and called Emil. The phone rang ten times before he finally gave up. He tried Emil's emergency pager number, but that wasn't working either. He let out a curse and looked around. There were a couple of random buildings, but he couldn't tell where the ambulance was, and he wasn't sure if he wanted a crowd of people to see him right now.

The only building that he recognized was the Daily Planet, the globe rotating at the same constant rate as it always had. The building was in the middle of the city- if he could just get there, then he could drag his own ass to the hospital.

When he finally got to the roof, there was blood everywhere, and his arm gave out. He knew that this was the farthest that he was going to go, and maybe his arm giving up on him translated to his hand, and quite possibly his brain too.

But he called Chloe Sullivan, asked her to come up to the roof, and dropped his cell phone, since the weight of it seemed too heavy for his hand to deal with.

He forgot that he was wearing his gear until he heard heels clacking as she came up the stairs. He blacked out right as the door opened. And as he felt the strange heat travelling from his stomach and spreading up towards his chest and around his shoulders and down his back, he could hear her voice again.

_Promise me that you won't take me to the hospital. _

He inhaled deeply, and found himself back on the roof, a pole tossed aside next to him, blood everywhere. He looked up at Chloe Sullivan, her eyes were completely white. They were starting to return to their normal color, and she gave him a weak smile.

"What did you do?" He asked

"It's not important", she gasped, wrapping an arm around his neck. "But what is", she took a couple of shallow breaths. "No hospitals, no morgues. Please, Ollie."

He was incredibly confused. "Okay", he said, uncertainly.

"You're a pain in the ass."

He let out a laugh, and looked at the pole. "How did you…?"

He looked back over at her, but there was no response. She was cold, and her eyes were shut.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

"It's time, Oliver."

He looked up, and saw Emil standing over him. Oliver straightened himself and ran rubbed his eyes before glancing at the still body on the couch, and then back at Emil.

"I don't want to talk to you", he said, moving to reach for the bottle on the table before realizing that it was empty. He frowned before getting up and heading over to the liquor cabinet.

Whisky was getting boring, maybe something else was appropriate here. He'd ordinarily reach for the tequila, but those were always fun when the salt was on a woman's stomach, the shot in her cleavage, and the lime in her mouth.

There was only one flat stomach that he wanted to lick salt off of- and he didn't want it to have his wounds on it; one pair of breasts that he wanted to take a shot from, one set of lips that he wanted to kiss instead of the colorless ones that were lying helplessly from his couch.

He gave up, and reached for another bottle of whisky.

"I gave you three days and she still hasn't woken up."

He rested the bottle on the table. "You didn't give me anything", he told him. "And you weren't exactly invited here."

"You gave me the security code months ago in case something happened, and you weren't returning my calls."

"Just giving you the same treatment you gave me", Oliver told him, reaching for a glass, pouring some of the liquid in, and downing it instantly.

"And killing your organs is going to help?"

"Well, it's a good thing I have a doctor, then isn't it?" He asked sarcastically, pouring himself another drink. "Oh, wait, that only works if he picks up the phone when something goes wrong to begin with. Sorry, my mistake."

"I was in surgery helping a gunshot victim before his lungs gave out when you called. My phone's not sterile- I can't touch it without risking the patient's life"

"-so you risked mine instead."

"That's not fair."

"No, it's not. But you want to know what's also not fair? The fact that some poor innocent woman who barely gives a shit about me had to give her own life in order to save my pathetic ass."

"It's also not fair to her family to keep a corpse here and not even try to contact them to tell them that she's dead."

He neglected the drink in his hand for a second before focusing on Emil completely. "Don't tell me that you did."

Emil took a glass from the cabinet and poured himself a drink. "I wanted to, but I couldn't."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"I looked at her medical files- there's no emergency contact or guardian. And I checked out her address and made a couple of calls. She has a family, I know that she does, but on paper, she doesn't. And tried talking to the people around where she lives yesterday, but they didn't tell me anything. Her behavior imitates someone who is keeping her abilities a secret from the people she loves, but it looks like she's completely alone."

Thank you, barista with coffee and food. Maybe he should ask for her name.

"Well, there's no need to call them if she's going to wake up." Oliver told him

"Oliver, I know that it's hard, but she's not going to."

"She does this sometimes- she told me."

"Did she say how long it usually takes?"

He tried to think of a time frame, but she never mentioned anything. She would just mention that she woke up in a morgue, and then move on to another topic. Or rip his clothes off. Or take her clothes off.

"No, but she's woken up before. She'll do it again."

"Oliver, I can't see how she's going to wake up if she starts to decompose. Or if her body shuts down. You need to let me do an autopsy, it's protocol."

"No." He said automatically

"It needs to be done, and I think that it would be good for you to just accept that she's gone."

"No." He repeated. "I don't know how many times she's gone through this, or how long it takes for her to come back, and I don't know how many times she's woken up in a morgue, but she is not going to wake up in the middle of an autopsy, and I'm not letting an autopsy prevent her from being able to wake up."

"What makes you think that she's woken up in a morgue?"

"She told me."

"You make her seem incredibly guarded. What makes you think that she's telling you the truth?"

"She's not lying."

"How can you tell?" Emil asked

"You can't lie to a liar. And besides, I promised her that she wouldn't go to a hospital."

Emil drank from his glass. "I'm supposed to offer to do it here, but I know that you won't allow me to." He poured more liquid into his glass and downed that too. "And now, I can't."

"What?" Oliver asked

"I can't perform any medical procedures if I've been drinking", he said, putting down the empty glass and walking towards the door. "See you around."

"Wait."

Emil turned around.

"I'm still mad at you, but I'm still not going to let you drive drunk."

"I was going to walk."

"No, you were going to shamefully walk. But you're my friend, and here's the thing- I don't do any guilty walking unless it's the walk of shame. And even then, I forget that I'm supposed to feel bad."

He grabbed another bottle from the liquor cabinet. "So we're going to drink and wait, and when Chloe wakes up, she can have a drink too."

"Seems like a waste of time", Emil said, walked back over and grabbing the bottle.

"You can tell your colleagues that you're witnessing a medical miracle when she wakes up."

"Or I can just witness it and keep it to myself."

Good man. Oliver filled up Emil's glass, and then his own. "A miracle's still a miracle." He smiled, and clinked his glass with Emil's.

He was trying to be brave because he had no idea if she would actually wake up or not. He just knew that she had to.

If she didn't wake up, there would be no one left to kick his ass. If she didn't wake, up, he couldn't kick her ass for risking her life to save his.

Two hours later, Emil's phone started going off. One phone call at first that went unanswered, and then the voicemails, text messages, and more calls.

"Dude, it's a good thing I don't have any neighbors", Oliver pointed out, laughing. "Otherwise people would start to talk."

"Silent it is", Emil said, grabbing the phone and pressing a couple of buttons.

It was when the emergency pager started beeping that Oliver started to feel guilty. The man really was biting off more than he could chew with his patients- it was understandable that he didn't have time to take on another crisis.

"Why did you take on my case if you knew that you were so busy?" He asked as the man shut the pager off.

"Originally? Because I was curious to see how it would work out. And also because the more people you save, the less people I need to. Prevention."

There was a silence before Emil continued. "I promised myself that I would be humble when I started my practice, but I failed. I'm one of the best in my field, and I don't let the people that I work with forget that. I lost perspective, and then I started to hear whispers about people with extraordinary abilities in Metropolis."

"People?"

"Yeah, there was a rumor going around about this kid who pickpocketed in the city. Angry teenager, no big deal, right? Except he does it with a remarkable speed- all you feel is a little bit of wind. Where Chloe comes from, there's a whole town full of people with extraordinary abilities. I started compiling research, thinking that I could figure it out, but I haven't been able to yet."

"Emil, if you need funding"

"-Funding is just money. It buys equipment, and I already have the best equipment. It hires the best minds, and I already work with brilliant people. There isn't much else that I can do."

"I don't believe that, Doc."

"The best that I've come up with is that the abilities are emotion based. They have some sort of trigger, and it changes with the individual. I'm not sure if she knows what hers is yet, I don't know how often she's been doing this. But whatever it is, to undo death? It's something big, and judging by the way she was freaking out when we met her, it didn't happen often until then. That may have changed, or maybe my conclusions are incorrect, but that's what appears to be happening. She needs to be careful of it."

"She's going to be fine", Oliver told him. "Just as soon as she wakes up."

"Are you sure about that?"

Oliver wanted to automatically say yes, that he was sure. The truth was that he was mad at how much it felt like he didn't know her. Like he didn't know the person, just the body.

He silently grabbed the bottle and poured Emil a drink. And then another. His friend was passed out on the floor, and Oliver just kept staring at the resting body on the couch.

Kept staring until he was sick of how pale she looked and how cold her hands felt. When he felt sober enough, he scooped her up, started a warm bath, and slipped her body in the water before hopping in fully clothed.

"Please", he whispered, holding her shoulders. "There has to be something that I can do."

There was no answer.

"You never said how long it takes", he said to her. "You just said no morgues. I won't let that happen to you, I won't let them do an autopsy. But that's all you said. The woman who has an smart answer for everything and you won't tell me what to do. And I need you to tell me what to do, Sullivan."

But she didn't say anything back.

"You never told me what to do." He felt a tear roll down his cheek, but he didn't care. Nobody saw him. "You never told me what to do."

Ten minutes later after he stopped crying, he was still sitting in a tub of water, head tilted downwards. He was holding a dead woman and not giving a damn about the world or checking up on his passed out friend in the other room when something strange happened.

Her hand moved. Barely, but it had moved of its own accord a split second before she took a deep breath and jolted forward, eyes snapping open.

He grabbed her body and held her tightly. "Breathe", he said, more to himself than to her.

"Ollie, you're going to have to loosen the grip, otherwise I'm not going to be able to", she said. "And don't think I didn't notice that I'm naked and you're not. What kind of person takes a bath with their clothes on?"

He rested a hand on her neck and pulled her tighter. "I'm going to let that one go because you just died."

"And I'm going to let that one go because you're the Green Arrow." She told him.

He froze for a split second and she pulled away for a moment. "You're too easy", she said, planting a kiss on his cheek.

He was about to do something less PG rated when he heard a groan coming from the other room.

"You have a guy over?" She asked "That answers so many questions."

"I was drinking with Emil earlier and I have a naked woman on top of me now", he said, getting up from the tub. "I'll let him know that you're okay. You probably want some privacy right now."

She held on to his wrist. "I really don't."

He turned to look at the hand. He wished that it was because she didn't want to be alone, that she just wanted him to stick around, but he knew that she didn't operate that way.

She wanted to feel something, and he was the only available outlet. He shook his head. "I'm not having sex with you right now, Chloe."

"Because Emil's right there?"

He shook his head. "Because we're going to talk about some things first."

"We agreed that this would be simple."

Because dying on a rooftop before magically being brought back to life was simple. Women are so weird.

He pulled her up from the water, reached for a towel, and covered her up. "I thought I said that you don't get to block me out."

"I don't like that rule."

And he didn't like her dead, but he couldn't say that. Instead, he took a lock of wet hair that was sticking to the side of her face and put it behind her ear. "Let me get Emil a ride home, and then the two of us will have a quick chat that we've both been avoiding for a while, and after that, I'll get rid of this restraining towel." He tapped a finger on the knot of the towel.

He opened the bathroom door before she could answer and pulled a slowly okay again Emil to his feet.

"Where are we going?" Emil asked. "Are we going back to the hospital? They're not going to like that very much."

"She woke up", he told his friend, supporting him as the elevator doors opened. "And I'm sorry that I have to kick you out like this, but there are a couple of things that I need to go over with her."

"Understandable", Emil said, stepping in. "I'm glad that she's okay."

"Me too."

"Mind you, I have no idea how that's possible, what with the decomposition of her body that was supposed to have start occurring."

He hit L. "No clue here either. Listen, the car's right outside. I'm going to pay the driver extra to make sure that you get in your apartment okay. Gary's a cool guy, you'll be fine."

"You don't have to do that, not after you almost…"

"-I want to", Oliver cut him off. "The other night? It's more my fault than yours. We're good, Emil."

"We need to develop a better system to make sure that it doesn't happen again." He continued to ramble. "I thought that a secure system was in place, but obviously, it's not secure enough."

Oliver rolled his eyes. "We'll come up with one when we're both more sober."

He walked him out of the building and helped him get into the car.

"How are you so controlled?" Emil asked him

"Years of practice", he answered before shutting the limo door and giving the car two pats before it drove away.

"One down", he said to himself before taking a deep breath and heading back upstairs, wondering if Chloe had gone to the extreme of escaping out of the window in order to avoid having a real conversation.

She wasn't in the bathroom or on the couch that she had spent three days on when he got back up. No, she just had to be clever.

She was upside down on his yoga mat, doing a hand-stand. And she was naked. His eyes travelled from the hands that were supporting her body on the floor up to the arms to the spine that was completely perpendicular to the orange mat before his eyes drifted to the naked bottom that was right in front of him.

He realized that there was no way for him to get her down from there without touching her in some way that would prevent him from being able to control himself. So he just stood there, arms crossed, and staring at her ass appreciatively for a couple of seconds more before looking back down at her arms.

Her body was starting to shake. Either her body was still weak from the recovery or she hadn't been practicing yoga daily like he had been.

Regardless of the reason, she couldn't hold that position forever, and now, the two of them knew that. So while he might have stepped back into the penthouse with her holding the advantage, it wasn't going to last long.

He smiled to himself, and at her cleverness. Her method worked in distracting him for the moment. "You're going to have to come down sometime." He said, trying to keep his voice steady as he picked up the discarded towel.

He watched as she tried to come back down gracefully, but instead of her feet planting back down on the floor and standing back up, she fell. Oliver saw the incorrect positioning, and caught her as she started to topple down, one hand behind her head so that it wouldn't bump on the floor.

He tried not to notice her leg wrapping around his body and the little smirk on her face.

"Do yoga a lot?" He asked

"I pick up on things here and there." She answered, catching her breath

"I can see that. Jack of all trades?"

"Master of some."

"Are you okay?" He asked her

"Yeah", she said, getting up. "Just fell down a little bit, no permanent damage done."

"That's not what I meant."

She grabbed the towel and wrapped it around her body before taking a deep breath and looking up at him. "I know." She swallowed and looked down for a second before looking back up. "There's a lot of shit that isn't my story to tell, so I don't know what you want me to say."

He nodded and walked over to his desk. He activated the fingerprint scanner, opened a drawer, and pushed a button before shutting the drawer again. He stepped over to the gears of the clock where the retina scanner had appeared, and scanned his right eye.

The door to the Arrow room opened, and they stepped inside to the place where he normally felt the safest. Except now, he felt like he was the one who was giving some sort of speech behind a transparent podium that allowed the entire world to see that he was actually the naked one.

"The wound on my leg happened because a guy stabbed me with his knife as I zip-lined up." He pointed to a spot on the floor. "I stitched myself up right there."

He opened a door to a small incinerator. "I burned my suit the other day right here, and I ordered a new one from an old man in Italy because it was covered with so much blood. And as much as people turn their heads when you throw enough money at them, I couldn't explain anything to a local dry cleaner in Metropolis."

He walked over to some of the arrows. "I designed these myself, and I engineered most of the workings of the trick arrows." He ran a finger through the feathers of one arrow. "Designed to stun, not kill", he added.

"You already know that I was on a deserted island for years instead of the traditional college route. What I didn't tell you is that I learned how to shoot an arrow while I was there. That I started this all when I came back. They all suggested that I go to a therapist, that I might have some form of post-traumatic stress disorder. This is what I did instead."

He couldn't stop himself from thinking that he had inadvertently given her an exclusive interview. That she was going to run away, write an article about everything that he had said, and put it on the front page.

This story was going to get her out of the basement of the Daily Planet and probably into the top floor with a full office and a plaque on the door. It'll get her a Pulitzer.

"I'm not crazy", he said loudly, over his subconscious telling him to stop before he dug a hole too deep to talk his way out of. "And I know that I'm throwing a lot at you", he said, turning to face her. "But you understand all of this, don't you? With everything that you can do, that you're capable of doing, you get this, right?"

She stood still, silently blinking at him.

"Chloe?" He asked nervously

She held a hand out, and for a split second, he cringed, thinking that she was about to slap him. That maybe slapping was a new version of kneeing him in the balls. Instead, she held his face in her hand, tracing his cheek with her thumb for a second, staring at him.

"You're not crazy", she whispered, before kissing him softly.

He broke the kiss, and looked at her. "Then you need to give me something, here. Because you were dead for three days and I felt like I didn't know anything about you."

"You know me", she said, as she pushed his arms up and pulled his shirt off. "You know me." She repeated.

"You haven't told me anything. I don't even know who to call if something happens."

When she looked at him, there were tears in her eyes. "My phone didn't ring at all in the three days that I was out", she said evenly. "There's no one to call."

"What about Clark?" He asked

"Focusing on other things. Other people."

Other women.

That was when he realized that his original suspicions were right- she wasn't the type of girl who randomly slept with people. She wasn't the type who randomly got undressed or felt comfortable doing naked yoga.

She was forcing herself to work past the vulnerability.

He leaned down and kissed her, nudging her mouth open slowly with his tongue and touching her tongue gently before pulling apart. "You're wanted", he said as clearly as he could, looking directly into her eyes.

She cleared her throat for a second and stepped back. "You…don't have to lie to make me feel better, Ollie. It's okay."

He took the remote to the Arrow room and pressed the button, closing the door.

He was nervous as he unbuttoned his pants and pulled them down. He considered taking off his boxers too, but left them on. He had never done anything like this in this room.

"I'm not lying." He took away the towel that was covering her body and let it drop to the floor.

"And I'm not lying when I say that you're incredibly beautiful."

He nibbled on her earlobe before kissing her neck and travelling down to her collar bone, sucking on it gently for a split second before kissing down her cleavage and stomach.

He trailed down one of her thighs before licking towards the inside of her thigh and travelling over to her clitoris before his tongue plummeted deep into her core, only egged on by her moaning and the fingers that were threaded in his hair.

He continued to lick the juices that were pouring out of her, needy, as if the world would end if she didn't get an orgasm from this. As if he would have failed her somehow the one time that she let him do this.

He withdrew his tongue and replaced it with a finger hitting her clit and her G-spot at the same time before pulling back slowly and inserting two fingers, and then three, feeling triumphant as her hand gripping his shoulder tighter and tighter as she screamed his name loudly, letting her orgasm claim her.

He licked his fingers clean and pulled down his boxers, entering into her body before going in and out slowly. "Look at me", he said, forcing her to face him. "Tell me that I'm lying to you when I say that I want you."

"I can't let you", she let out a choked sob.

He thrust into her forcefully. "Then tell me that I'm lying." He challenged

He saw the terror in her eyes right before he came. The words spilled from her mouth and etched into his brain. "You're not lying."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

They weren't holding each other, weren't touching each other in the slightest. Chloe and Oliver were just lying down next to each other on the floor, staring up at the ceiling.

The sweat on their bodies had dried, and he was starting to shiver from the cold. He knew that he should probably move to clean up the mess on the floor or grab his clothes to cover one of them up. But then he remembered that she wasn't moving either, and he preferred this kind of mess on the floor than the blood that had covered it when he had stitched himself back up.

The idea that he had taken another human being into this room and had sex with her in it was surreal to him. He wondered if she would realize what had happened, who he was, if he got up. If she would dart unexpectedly and delete his number.

He didn't think that he needed to worry about the papers anymore, and that wasn't just because Metropolis didn't know the identity of the Red-Blue Blur.

"I should probably get to work", she said finally, without moving.

"You don't need to", he answered.

He saw her move her head to the side to look at him and raise an eyebrow, but he kept staring at the ceiling. At the monitor that could descend from it so that he could run a search if he wanted to. He wondered if this was a dream just like the last, if something would crack and break, causing the monitor to fall on top of them.

"You going to explain that one?" She asked

"I used your phone and texted your editor that you weren't feeling well while you were…out."

"He bought it?"

Oliver nodded, still looking up at the ceiling.

"You shouldn't have done that, Ollie", she said in a low voice.

"You didn't give me a choice."

"It wasn't your choice to make."

"You were dead", he said bluntly. "So if you want to fix the situation for any future resurrections, then maybe you should give me an instruction manual."

"Don't go off getting yourself killed and you won't need one."

He kept staring at the ceiling. "I'm not going to apologize for that."

"So then you understand that I won't apologize either."

And then he felt the afterglow disappear. "No, I don't."

He got up from the floor and pulled on his boxers. He reached for the remote that had been tossed aside before and pressed a button, opening the door and stepping out.

"Oliver, what are you doing?"

He walked over to the kitchen and pulled his cell phone out of the charger. "I have some messages to return", he said.

"You're the boss and it's early in the morning. Can't it wait?"

He scrolled through his email and saw message after message of emergencies that had popped up and were half-heartedly resolved. There were angry employees and international clients who were waiting to hear back from him. And an assistant who was probably terrified that he had gone and died, terminating any need for employment.

"No, it can't."

"So is it a regular occurrence for you to suddenly need to know what's happening in your inbox? You're shutting me out on purpose."

He let out a laugh and kept scrolling. "Why, is it weird that you're not the one doing it?"

"That's not fair."

She's got to be kidding.

He stopped scrolling and looked up at her. "No, you know what's not fair? The fact that you were dead for three days and I just kept a dead body in my apartment because I didn't know if you were going to come back to life, and you're not telling me what to do so that if it happens again, I have no choice but to do it all over again just because you're scared."

"It's complicated, Oliver."

If she was trying to block him out now, then it was oddly timed. Shouldn't she have run screaming once she found him in his gear up on that roof? And if not then, shouldn't she have done it when he took her into the Arrow room?

"I told you that I was the Green Arrow and it didn't look complicated then."

"Yeah, well, it wasn't exactly my first time taking care of someone who saves the world." She told him.

"Next time, make sure that your little boy scout knows who's the good guy and bad guy before throwing someone across a room."

"That was business."

He remembered Emil mentioning a trigger. Was business her trigger? Was making sure that she didn't just have a mess on her hands a trigger?

"What do you call healing me, Chloe? Was that business too?"

"I can't control it!" She screamed, silencing him. "The first time it happened, my cousin Lois was dead, and the next thing I know, I'm waking up in a morgue and screaming for help. Do you think that I wanted that for myself? That I planned it?"

He was silent as she took a couple of deep breaths before looking back up at him. "There is no rulebook, Oliver. I'm sorry that I put you in that position, but there's nothing else that I could do. I wasn't going to let you die."

"Do you know how long it takes?"

She shook her head. "I think it changes based on the severity of the injury."

"How many times?"

"Three so far."

He bent down and put his arms around her. "I'm sorry that there had to be a third", he murmured.

"I'm not good at this", she whispered.

"I'll let you in on a secret. I'm not good at this either. Trust me, you're not going to get a grade."

"Is it okay if I give you a crash-course?"

He pulled away from her. "We're two people who are supposed to be dead. I get the feeling that the world won't end if you do. But I'm going to need to get you a change of clothes first, otherwise I'm going to be distracted."

She walked over to his closet, pulled out a random black button down shirt and put it on.

"I'm still distracted", he told her, sitting down on the couch.

"I don't have any clothes here other than the ruined beyond repair ones that I came here in. Deal."

"I'm just warning you now, if you suddenly end up naked and I end up inside of you, it's not my fault."

She sat on his lap and pushed him back on the sofa. "You do that and you'll never hear the story. I don't really like to repeat myself."

She brought herself closer to him before pausing millimeters before reaching his lips. He would have barely had to move in order to seal the deal, but that was what she wanted.

"I'm listening", he said against her lips.


End file.
